With 

The  Merry 
Austrians 


Amy  McLaren 


BY  AMY  MCLAREN 

Bawbee  Jock 

The  Yoke  of  Silence 

With  the  Merry  Austrians 


WITH   THE  MERRY 
AUSTRIANS 


BY 

AMY  MCLAREN 

AUTHOR   OF  "BAWBEE  JOCK,"  "THE   YOKE   OF  SILENCE,"  BTC. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW   YORK  AND  LONDON 

Cbc  fniicfccrbocfcet  press 
1912 


ttfce  ftnfcberbocker  press,  Hew 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — THE    UNEXPECTEDNESS   OF  A  PINK 

BALLOON i 

II. — FRAU  WOLFF  STIRS  THE  GOSSIP-POT  13 

III. — VILMA  SEYBELL  INTERVENES   .         .  23 

IV. — GRAFIN  RENTIER  "  PRESENTS"  THE 

ENGLISH  LADY    ....  30 

V. — "  BUT    You    ARE    A    VERY    NICE 

ENGLISH!"          ....  44 

VI. — COFFEE  AND  ROLLS  AND  A  GREAT 

DEAL  OF  LOVE   ....  56 

VII. — THE  SACRIFICE  AT  THE  FRISEUR'S  .  75 

VIII. — MYLES  EGERTON  OFFERS  REPARATION  85 

IX. — ROSE  TREVOR  REFUSES  TO  ACCEPT  98 

X. — THE  PICNIC  AT  THE  SCHULTERTHAL 

RESTAURANT       .         .         .         .no 

XI. — ROSE  AND  RUDOLF  DO  NOT  RETURN  125 
XII. — MYLES  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY  .         .138 


2137072 


iv  Contents 

'     CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIII. — CONCERNING   THE    ADVENTURES   OF 

RUDOLF  AND  ROSE       .         .         .143 

XIV. — THE  CROSSING  OF  THE  THAL  .         .158 

XV. — THE     CONGRATULATIONS     OF     THE 

GESELLSCHAFT     .        .         .         .174 

XVI. — THE    LANTERN-FETE     AT     SCHLOSS 

WALDHOF   .         .         .         .         .183 

XVII. — VILMA'S  FACE  OUT  OF  THE  DARKNESS  190 

XVIII. — MYLES  EXACTS  A  PROMISE      .         .  203 

XIX. — THE  AUSFLUG  TO  CORTINA      .         .  223 

XX. — A  PASSIONATE  LOVER     .         .         .  243 

XXI. — FRAU   WOLFF   SPIES   THROUGH   THE 

BUSHES      .....     258 

XXII. — VILMA'S  REVENGE  BEGINS  TO  WORK    272 

XXIII. — THE    SCAPEGOAT    FOR   A   WOMAN'S 

TREACHERY         .         .         .         .282 

XXIV. — FRAU  WOLFF  OPENS  RUDOLF'S  EYES    295 

XXV. — A  WELL-MEANING  BLUNDERER        .    315 

XXVI. — IN  THE  KASTANIENWALD         .        .    337 


WITH  THE  MERRY  AUSTRIANS 


With  the  Merry  Austrians 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  UNEXPECTEDNESS  OF  A  PINK  BALLOON 

THERE  was  the  hurried  patter  of  little 
bare  feet  in  swift  flight  over  the  uncar- 
peted  boards  of  the  wooden  corridor;  a  suc- 
cession of  bumpy  jumps  down  the  steps  leading 
to  the  verandah;  and  a  flying  figure  hurled 
itself  against  the  legs  of  a  tall  man  who  was 
advancing  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"English ! ' '  murmured  the  tall  man,  brought 
to  an  abrupt  standstill,  and  looking  down  at 
a  round  object  which  reached  no  higher  than 
his  knee. 

"Hulloa!"  he  said.  "What  are  you?  A 
pink  balloon,  eh?" 

The  runaway  stopped  short  and  stood  with 
his  hands  behind  his  back:  a  little  boy  in  a 
voluminous  suit  of  pink  pyjamas.  They  were 


2  With  the  Merry  Austrians 

tied  round  his  ankles  with  strings  of  white 
tape,  and  gave  to  his  figure  a  peculiarly 
inflated  appearance. 

"A  pink  balloon,"  repeated  the  tall  man. 
"I  believe  if  I  stuck  a  pin  into  you  you  'd  go 

pop." 

A  peal  of  shrill  laughter  greeted  this 
pleasantry.  To  the  intelligence  of  three  it 
sounded  very  funny. 

"No,  I  wouldn't  go  pop,  'cos  I  couldn't. 
I  'm  not  a  balloon.  I  'm  a  little  boy.  I  'm 
Benjie." 

Mr.  Egerton  bent  down  and  scanned 
critically  the  small  face  upturned  to  his. 

"Oh,  you  're  a  little  Benjamin,  are  you? 
Where  are  all  your  brothers  and  sisters?  " 

The  small  person  in  the  pink  pyjamas 
wriggled  his  bare  toes  backwards  and  for- 
wards over  the  wooden  flooring. 

"I  haven't  got  none,"  he  said  slowly. 
"I  've  only  got  a  muvver  and — I  Ve  runned 
away.  Here  she  comes!"  he  exclaimed  hur- 
riedly. ' '  You  hide  me,  quick ! ' ' 

Mr.  Egerton  was  not  given  time  to  remon- 
strate against  the  use  to  which  his  person 
was  put.  The  balloon-like  object  suddenly 
disappeared.  The  next  moment  he  felt  a 
pair  of  firm  little  hands  clasping  the  calves 


The  Unexpectedness  of  a  Pink  Balloon  3 

of   his   legs   from   behind,   with   cat-like   te- 
nacity. 

From  the  distant  corridor  came  a  voice, 
clear  and  sweet. 

"Benjie!  Benjie!  come  back!  How  dare 
you  run  away!" 

Mr.  Egerton  looked  up. 

She  was  a  very  youthful  mother:  a  mere 
girl.  She  was  tall  and  slight.  There  was 
an  air  of  freshness  and  supple  grace  in  the 
lines  of  her  figure,  as  she  ran  lightly  down 
the  verandah  steps. 

His  position  was  an  awkward  one.  He 
could  not  free  himself.  He  had  to  stand  still 
and  wait  for  developments. 

The  girl's  step  slackened  as  she  drew  near. 
The  evening  light,  flickering  through  the 
creepers  which  hung  from  the  arch  above, 
cast  flecks  of  colour  on  her  white  dress,  and 
touched  her  hair,  which  was  golden  brown, 
and  soft  and  thick.  He  was  conscious  of  a 
pair  of  eyes  fixed  on  him  enquiringly.  Under 
the  dark  lashes  he  could  not  see  whether  they 
were  blue  or  grey  or  hazel.  Nor  could  he  tell 
whether  she  was  laughing  at  him,  or  whether 
she  was  serious.  He  took  off  his  hat,  and 
murmured  something  apologetic. 

The  girl  bowed. 


4  With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"Benjie,"  she  said  severely,  "come  here!" 

The  answer  was  a  derisive  flutter  of  the 
pink  pyjamas. 

She  took  a  step  forward. 

With  a  piercing  scream  Benjie  released 
his  grasp,  and,  kicking  up  his  heels,  fled  down 
the  verandah  towards  the  open  garden  beyond. 

Mr.  Egerton  stood  aside  and  watched  the 
two  figures — the  one  flying,  the  other  pur- 
suing— until  they  disappeared.  Ought  he  to 
follow  and  assist  in  the  capture,  he  wondered, 
or  might  the  lady  resent  his  interference?  He 
was  not  given  to  impulsive  action,  and  he 
hesitated.  At  that  moment  a  thin  elderly 
man,  wearing  eyeglasses,  appeared  at  the  door 
leading  into  the  corridor,  and  called  to  him 
in  a  harassed  voice  of  appeal. 

"Myles!  I  wish  you  would  come  here  and 
look  after  the  luggage.  They  are  taking  it 
into  the  wrong  rooms,  and  I  can't  make  this 
crop-headed  idiot  of  a  foreigner  understand 
a  word  I  say." 

"All  right,  I  'm  coming." 

"And  I  've  written  our  names  in  the  Visit- 
ors' Book,"  called  out  the  same  voice. 

"The  dickens  you  have!"  murmured  Mr. 
Egerton.  "Exactly  what  I  did  not  want  you 
to  do." 


The  Unexpectedness  of  a  Pink  Balloon  5 

The  pursuit  of  the  runaway  was  short  but 
animated.  He  was  caught  in  a  summer  house 
at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  and  was  scolded  and 
conducted  up-stairs  to  his  nursery,  protesting 
and  unrepentant. 

"I  wonder  what  that  gentleman  thought  of 
you, "  said  his  mother,  as  she  tucked  the  bed- 
clothes round  him.  "He  must  have  been 
shocked.  Now,  say  you  're  sorry  before  going 
to  sleep." 

"He  spoked  English.  I  knewed  what  he 
said,"  remarked  Benjie,  evading  a  direct  reply. 

"Say  you  're  sorry,"  repeated  his  mother. 

Benjie's  gaze  travelled  upwards,  and  he 
began  to  count  the  flies  crawling  over  the  low 
ceiling.  An  admonitory  shake  interrupted 
his  calculations.  His  eyes  roamed  round  the 
room  in  search  of  something. 

"I  want  Curly  Kate,"  he  said.  "I  can't 
go  to  sleep  wivout  Curly  Kate." 

On  a  table,  where  it  was  lying  face  down- 
wards, was  a  black  doll.  A  halo  of  hair  stood 
out  from  its  battered  head;  it  had  never  been 
beautiful,  but  a  smile  of  content  crept  over 
Benjie's  features  as  it  was  laid  to  sleep  on  the 
pillow  beside  him. 

"Kiss  Curly  Kate,  muwer,"  he  said 
drowsily. 


6  With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"You  haven't  said  you're  sorry  yet  for 
running  away." 

With  a  sudden  gesture  Benjie  threw  out  his 
arms  and  clasped  them  round  his  mother's 
neck.  He  drew  her  head  down  close  to  his. 

"You  're  so  pretty,  muwer,"  he  whispered 
coaxingly.  "Such  a  pretty,  pretty  muwer." 
He  pressed  two  ringers  against  the  curve  of 
her  cheek,  and  the  colour  flushed  up  warm  and 
soft.  "And  you  're  so  nice  to  kiss,  muwer," 
continued  the  wheedling  voice .  ' '  Your  cheeks 
smells  so  nice.  They  smells  dust  like  pink 
soap." 

A  shower  of  kisses  and  scoldings  descended 
on  his  head. 

"I  sink  I  'm  sorry  now,"  he  murmured. 
The  languor  of  sleep  weighed  heavy  on  his 
eyelids.  "I  sink  I  'm  sorry,"  he  repeated 
drowsily,  and,  turning  on  his  side,  he  laid  his 
cheek  against  Curly  Kate's  dusky  locks. 

She  watched  him  sleeping,  her  glance  wan- 
dering occasionally  round  the  bare  little 
nursery.  It  was  the  bedroom  of  a  primitive 
summer  hotel  in  the  Austrian  Tyrol.  The 
wooden  floor  was  innocent  of  carpet,  the 
furniture  scanty  and  of  the  plainest  descrip- 
tion. The  only  adornments  on  the  blue- 
washed  walls  were  a  hanging  mirror,  and  a 


The  Unexpectedness  of  a  Pink  Balloon  7 

crude-coloured  print  of  the  Holy  Family. 
Yet  there  was  redemption  in  its  immaculate 
cleanliness:  in  the  quaintly-shaped  windows, 
iron-barred  and  muslin-curtained,  through 
which  could  be  seen  distant  glimpses  of  moun- 
tain and  pine  forest  bathed  in  the  golden 
light  of  evening. 

An  open  door  showed  the  adjoining  room 
to  be  as  plain  and  simple,  but  it  led  on  to  a 
small  wooden  balcony.  A  table  was  drawn 
up  to  the  window,  and  on  it  were  a  few  photo- 
graphs, a  glass  of  wild  flowers,  and  a  piece  of 
work  thrown  hastily  down,  small  refining  signs 
of  a  woman's  presence. 

Rose  Trevor  turned  her  head  as  a  step 
sounded  in  the  corridor.  The  door  opened, 
and  a  young  girl  dressed  in  peasant  costume 
entered  with  an  elaborate  attempt  at  noise- 
lessness. 

Leopoldina's  thick  flaxen  hair  was  braided 
in  two  plaits,  which  met  over  her  brow,  and 
were  tucked  away  behind  her  ears.  Her 
sturdy  figure  gave  the  impression  that  she 
wore  a  great  many  petticoats  and  her  breadth 
was  accentuated  by  the  well-starched  white- 
ness of  her  cotton  sleeves,  tied  above  her 
elbows  with  cherry-coloured  ribbons.  She 
was  breathing  heavily:  the  result  of  running 


8  With  the  Merry  Austrians 

upstairs  after  a  generous  supper.  She  glanced 
at  her  sleeping  charge,  and  then  at  her  mis- 
tress, who  spoke  to  her  in  a  low  tone  in  German, 
and  gave  her  some  instructions. 

Mrs.  Trevor  passed  from  the  nursery  into 
the  room  beyond,  and  stepping  out  on  to  the 
balcony  leant  her  arms  on  the  wooden  rail 
and  looked  down  into  the  garden  below. 

"I  'm  glad  I  came  here.  It 's  a  dear  old 
place,"  she  murmured. 

An  atmosphere  of  by-gone  pride,  of  old- 
world  romance,  made  it  almost  a  sin  to  call 
Schloss  Waldhof  an  hotel.  Many  such  old 
Schlosses  abound  in  the  Austrian  Tyrol. 
Many  are  allowed  to  crumble  into  ruins,  but 
Schloss  Waldhof  had  fired  the  imagination  of 
an  enterprising  hotel  proprietor.  He  had 
bought  it  and  turned  it  to  its  present  use.  He 
had  based  his  hopes  of  success  not  on  the  rustic 
beauty  of  its  surroundings  but  on  the  prox- 
imity of  a  mineral  spring.  A  Wasser  Kur  would 
draw  visitors  to  the  place.  The  Schloss  he 
had  wisely  left  alone,  but  he  had  built  a  row  of 
very  ugly  bath-houses,  disfigured  the  fine  old 
entrance  by  placing  over  it  a  gaudy  boarding 
on  which  was  inscribed  "Hotel  Pension  Schloss 
Waldhof,"  and  erected  a  blatantly  modern 
restaurant  in  a  separate  part  of  the  garden. 


The  Unexpectedness  of  a  Pink  Balloon  9 

On  the  restaurant  he  built  his  best  hopes. 
The  cuisine  was  excellent,  the  wine  and  beer 
more  than  ordinarily  good.  It  was  open  to 
the  public  as  well  as  to  the  inmates  of  the 
Schloss,  and  was  much  frequented  by  the 
officers  of  the  different  regiments  at  present 
camping  in  the  neighbourhood  for  the  summer 
manoeuvres. 

From  her  balcony  Rose  looked  across  at 
the  pine  woods  and  drew  in  a  deep  breath  of 
the  cool  air  which  was  stealing  over  the  valley 
with  the  lengthening  shadows. 

"I  will  have  supper  now,  and  go  for  a  walk 
afterwards,"  she  decided,  and  made  her  way 
down- stairs  and  passed  out  through  the  front 
entrance. 

Crossing  a  courtyard  paved  with  white 
cobble  stones,  she  mounted  a  flight  of  steps 
leading  to  the  restaurant  and  entered  the 
Speise  Saal.  It  was  a  big  cool  room,  with 
many  windows  overlooking  the  garden.  A 
long  table  ran  down  one  side  of  it,  and  num- 
erous small  tables  were  dotted  about  for  the 
use  of  outside  visitors. 

Being  a  resident  at  the  Schloss,  she  took 
her  place  at  the  long  table.  Opposite  to  her 
sat  an  enormously  fat  woman  who  looked  up 
from  her  plate  and  bowed. 


io          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"Goot  evenink,"  she  said. 

She  spoke  thickly.  She  had  beady  black 
eyes  and  a  hooked  nose.  There  was  no  mis- 
taking Frau  Wolff's  nationality. 

"Good  evening,"  answered  Rose,  politely. 

Her  acquaintance  with  Frau  Wolff  had  so 
far  not  gone  beyond  the  stage  of  bowing  at 
meals,  but  Frau  Wolff  never  missed  an  oppor- 
tunity of  talking  if  it  came  in  her  way. 

"I  haf  inclination  to  speak  Ingleesh,"  she 
said,  "but  I  haf  not  much  occasion." 

Frau  Wolff  had  finished  her  supper.  A 
slender-necked  bottle  of  white  wine  stood 
beside  her  plate.  It  was  a  little  more  than 
half  empty.  She  had  already  drunk  more  than 
her  allowed  portion,  and  she  sighed  heavily. 

"Ze  Kur,"  she  said,  in  a  depressed  voice, 
"I  do  ze  Kur.  I  must  not  drink  more  of  ze 
vine." 

Rose  regarded  her  compassionately.  Would 
any  amount  of  curing  ever  reduce  that  moun- 
tain of  flesh  to  reasonable  limits?  Self-denial 
seemed  a  work  of  supererogation.  She  was 
a  heaving,  billowy  mass  of  fat.  Her  head 
looked  absurdly  small  for  her  body.  The  hair 
was  drawn  up  to  the  crown  in  a  tight  knot 
which  nodded  over  her  forehead  when  she 
became  excited. 


The  Unexpectedness  of  a  Pink  Balloon  n 

"  Would  the  wine  really  hurt  you?  " 

"It  is  vengeance  to  ze  stomach."  Frau 
Wolff  folded  her  hands  over  that  portion  of 
her  person  which  lay  below  the  waistband. 
"  If  I  drink  ze  vine,  zen  I  haf  such  remorses." 

"Nearly  every  one  here  drinks  beer,"  said 
Rose. 

The  top  knot  above  Frau  Wolff's  brow 
quivered. 

"Beer!  I  am  a  ruffian  for  ze  beer."  She 
drew  in  her  lips  tightly,  and  her  bosom  rose 
and  fell.  "  But  ze  Kur.  I  do  ze  Kur." 

Marie,  the  pretty  Tyrolean  who  was  waiting 
on  them,  brought  in  Rose's  supper. 

Frau  Wolff  watched  attentively.  Although 
she  had  finished  she  did  not  seem  inclined  to 
go  away.  This  was  a  good  opportunity,  she 
thought,  for  finding  out  a  few  particulars  about 
the  English  lady. 

"  Of  vat  age  is  your  leetle  son?  "  she  asked. 

"He  is  three,"  answered  Rose. 

' '  Ah  so !    Are  you  veedow  ? ' ' 
Rose  glanced  up.    She  hesitated.     The  ques- 
tion was  so  very  personal.     Then  she  answered 
quietly:  "Yes." 

"  For  how  long  time  haf  you  been  veedow?  " 

Rose  turned  to  give  an  order  to  Marie  and 
pretended  not  to  hear. 


12          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"For  von  year — or  two  year,  or  more  zen 
two  year?"  continued  the  relentless  voice. 
'Vy  haf  you  not  married  again?  Vould  you, 
vis  an  Austrian  marry?" 

Rose  looked  round  despairingly.  How  could 
she  get  rid  of  this  terrible  woman?  She  was 
wondering  whether  she  would  be  obliged  to 
take  refuge  in  flight  when  something  occurred 
to  divert  Frau  Wolff's  attention. 


CHAPTER  II 

FRAU    WOLFF    STIRS    THE    GOSSIP-POT 

TWO  ladies  and  a  party  of  men  had  entered 
*  the  Saal.  All  the  men  were  in  uniform, 
and  the  majority  of  them  were  young  officers 
belonging  to  the  Kaiser  Jager  Regiment. 
They  wore  pale  blue  tunics  and  pearl  grey 
trousers  and  little  black  jam-pot  hats.  There 
were  also  a  couple  of  artillerymen  in  dark  blue, 
and  a  young  officer  who  evidently  belonged 
to  the  staff.  His  General,  a  stout,  elderly  man 
with  a  row  of  medals  across  the  breast  of  his 
tunic,  was  talking  genially  to  the  elder  of  the 
two  ladies,  who  was  evidently  the  mother  of 
the  younger. 

Frau  Wolff  swung  heavily  round  on  her 
chair,  and  then  swung  back  again. 

"Ze  Frau  Baronin  Seybell  and  ze  young 
Baronin.  Zey  haf  vis  zem  ze  Herr  General 
and  much  offiziere.  Zey  haf  been  playing — 
vat  you  calls  tenees." 

13 


14          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Frau  Wolff  worshipped  rank  and  birth,  but 
deep  down  in  her  heart  she  envied  jealously 
these  aristocrats.  They  treated  her  with  con- 
temptuous indifference.  The  young  Baronin 
Seybell  was  the  haughtiest  and  most  con- 
temptuous of  them  all,  but  that  did  not  pre- 
vent Frau  Wolff  from  taking  a  lively  interest 
in  all  that  the  young  Baronin  did  and  said. 

There  was  a  clattering  of  swords  as  the  men 
moved  about  hanging  up  their  hats  and  over- 
coats on  a  row  of  pegs  by  the  door.  Before 
sitting  down  they  clicked  their  heels  together 
and  saluted  the  occupants  of  the  tables  on 
either  side. 

"Ze  young  Baronin  is  elegant,  nicht  wahr?" 
said  Frau  Wolff.  "She  is  modern.  She  is 
vat  you  Ingleesh  calls  smart.  She  pass  you 
on  ze  stair  vis  a  high  head  and  no  smile,  no 
salutation.  Zat  is  modern — smart,  you  call 
it?" 

Her  words  threw  light  on  a  subject  which 
had  puzzled  Rose.  The  Seybells  were  neigh- 
bours of  hers  in  the  Schloss,  but  the  young 
Baronin  had  shown  none  of  the  courtesy  which 
foreigners  usually  extend  to  those  with  whom 
they  are  thrown  in  contact. 

"Are  those  supposed  to  be  smart  manners? " 
she  said .  "  How  funny ! ' ' 


Frau  Wolff  Stirs  the  Gossip-pot     15 

"It  is  of  a  time  for  ze  young  Baronin  to 
marry,"  continued  Frau  Wolff.  "Ze  years 
pass  and  she  haf  not  already  a  husband. 
I  find  she  looks  for  him  vis  a  hungry  eye." 

Rose  glanced  across  at  the  other  table. 

The  young  Baronin  was  strikingly  hand- 
some. She  had  brilliant  dark  eyes,  a  pale 
face,  and  very  red  lips.  She  talked  a  great 
deal  with  sparkling  vivacity.  Evidently  what 
she  said  was  amusing,  to  judge  by  the  bursts 
of  laughter  which  followed  her  sallies. 

Frau  Wolff  made  a  grimace  and  spread  out 
her  hands. 

"Zese  offiizere!  Zey  make  nodding.  Zey 
haf  no  moneys."  Her  voice  sank  to  a  lower 
key.  "Zis  evenink  a  gentleman  of  your 
country  has  arrived.  He  is  frient  to  ze  young 
Baronin.  I  see  zem  meets.  She  vas  full  of 
happiness.  She  put  all  her  heart  into  her  eyes 
and  she  look  at  him  so ! " 

Frau  Wolff's  imitation  of  Vilma  Seybell's 
expression  was  more  suggestive  than  flatter- 
ing. With  the  help  of  a  pair  of  opera  glasses, 
which  she  always  kept  ready  on  her  balcony 
table,  she  was  accustomed  to  watch  everything 
that  went  on  in  the  hotel. 

"Yes,  I  saw  zeir  meetings,"  she  repeated, 
wagging  her  head.  "It  is  not  of  ze  first  time. 


16          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Ze  Ingleesh  Herr  has  vis  him  a  frient  who 
takes  ze  Kur .  I  hear  him  enquire  f  or  ze  bass . " 

The  room  was  filling  rapidly,  and  as  Rose 
had  finished  her  supper,  she  thought  it  better 
to  go  before  Frau  Wolff  could  again  revert  to 
personalities.  She  laid  her  table  napkin  beside 
her  plate  and  rose. 

Frau  Wolff  was  not  an  easy  person  to  shake 
off. 

"You  go?"  she  said,  raising  herself  out  of 
her  chair  with  difficulty.  "  I  too." 

But  on  the  doorstep  Rose  made  a  deter- 
mined stand. 

"I  am  going  for  a  walk,"  she  said  politely. 
"  Good  evening" ;  and  before  Frau  Wolff  could 
collect  sufficient  English  to  explain  that  she 
wished  to  come  with  her,  she  had  crossed  the 
courtyard,  and  passing  through  the  gateway 
had  taken  the  path  which  led  in  the  direction 
of  the  Kastanienwald. 

The  sun  had  dipped  behind  the  range  of 
hills  which  rose  at  the  back  of  the  Schloss, 
and  the  shadows  were  creeping  over  vineyard 
and  orchard.  A  faint  breeze,  laden  with  sweet 
scents,  rose  from  the  valley  where  all  day  long 
the  peasants  had  toiled  in  the  burning  sun, 
tossing  and  turning  the  new-mown  hay. 

Once  out   of  reach  of  Frau  Wolff,  Rose 


Frau  Wolff  Stirs  the  Gossip-pot     17 

walked  leisurely,  and  the  air  blew  softly  on 
her  bare  head  and  ruffled  the  little  waves 
of  hair  behind  her  ears.  Presently  she  wan- 
dered from  the  beaten  track  and  penetrated 
deeper  into  the  forest.  Here  the  trees  stood 
wider  apart,  their  gnarled  limbs  clothed  in  the 
fresh  green  of  early  summer,  the  mossy  turf 
about  their  spreading  roots  thickly  strewn 
with  the  prickly  husks  of  last  year's  harvest. 

A  wayside  shrine  marked  the  spot  where 
two  ways  met.  She  never  passed  the  shrine 
without  stepping  for  a  few  minutes  across  its 
threshold.  Crude  pictures  in  blue  and  gold 
covered  the  whitewashed  walls.  Garlands  of 
paper  roses  and  faded  tinsel  were  laid  before 
the  lace-draped  altar.  Little  tokens  of  the 
emotional  peasant  fervour  which  finds  its  out- 
let in  votive  offering  were  strewn  everywhere. 

The  light  was  beginning  to  fade  and  the 
forest  was  lonely  at  that  hour.  She  was 
hesitating  as  to  whether  she  would  go  on 
farther  or  retrace  her  steps,  when  she  heard 
the  sound  of  voices,  and  she  drew  back  into 
the  doorway  of  the  shrine.  She  would  allow 
whoever  it  was  to  pass  on,  she  thought. 

From  where  she  stood  she  caught  a  glimpse 
of  two  men  coming  up  the  path.  One  was 
the  Englishman  whom  she  had  seen  that 


1 8          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

afternoon  on  the  verandah.  His  companion 
would  be  the  friend  who  had  come  to  Waldhof 
to  take  the  Wasser  Kur,  she  concluded. 

They  passed  on  the  other  side  of  the  shrine, 
but  only  went  on  for  a  short  distance  and 
turned  back.  As  they  came  within  earshot 
again,  one  of  them  stopped  and  struck  a 
match.  She  heard  him  trying  to  light  his 
pipe.  There  were  muttered  exclamations 
regarding  the  villainous  badness  of  foreign 
matches,  and  then  a  whiff  of  tobacco  smoke 
was  wafted  round  to  where  she  stood,  and  an 
interrupted  conversation  was  continued. 

"And,  Charles,  don't  put  your  foot  in  it  and 
give  me  away.  Hotels  are  such  gossipy  places, 
and  I  'm  not  going  to  have  any  fuss." 

She  was  quite  sure  it  was  Benjie's  new 
friend,  the  tall  Englishman,  who  spoke,  be- 
cause the  answer  came  in  a  prim  staccato  voice 
which  could  not  be  his.  Rather  a  huffy 
answer: 

"My  dear  Myles,  I  have  no  wish  to  inter- 
fere with  your  plans.  Whilst  I  am  here  I  shall 
adhere  rigidly  to  the  cure.  It  is  my  intention 
to  avoid  society  entirely,  so  you  may " 

The  remainder  of  the  sentence  was  lost  as 
the  two  men  passed  on. 

Rose  waited  until  they  were  out  of  sight 


Frau  Wolff  Stirs  the  Gossip-pot     19 

before  moving.  She  was  annoyed  at  having 
played  eavesdropper,  but  the  situation  had 
been  sprung  upon  her  unawares.  She  could 
not  help  thinking  over  the  conversation  as 
she  walked  homewards.  Of  course  it  had 
reference  to  the  young  Baronin  Seybell. 

"And  he  does  not  understand  her  at  all. 
She  would  like  the  fuss  and  gossip." 

Sounds  of  music  greeted  her  as  she  turned 
in  at  the  garden  entrance  to  the  Schloss,  and 
she  saw  that  lights  were  streaming  from  the 
windows  of  the  Lese  Saal.  The  darkness 
had  fallen  quickly,  and  in  contrast  to  the 
outer  gloom,  the  brightly  lit  window  appeared 
like  a  picture  framing  the  group  of  figures 
within. 

It  showed  a  bare,  sparsely  furnished  room, 
panelled  in  light  varnished  wood.  The  tables 
and  chairs  had  been  pushed  aside,  and  one  of 
the  young  Kaiser  Jagers  was  seated  at  the 
piano.  He  was  playing  a  pas  de  quatre.  His 
fingers  rattled  up  and  down  the  keyboard,  and 
he  improvised  startling  variations  as  he  went 
along. 

Vilma  Seybell  and  her  mother  were  there, 
with  their  party.  The  old  Baronin  had  been 
swept  into  a  corner  and  Vilma  was  dancing. 
She  was  leading  the  procession  with  an  officer 


2O          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

in  a  dark  blue  uniform,  and  the  rest  of  the 
party,  dancing  in  couples,  followed  behind 
her. 

In  order  to  reach  her  rooms  Rose  had  to  pass 
close  to  the  open  window.  She  saw  the  door 
of  the  Lese  Saal  open  and  the  tall  Englishman 
enter.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Vilma 
dropped  her  partner's  arm  and  hurried  across 
the  room  to  greet  him. 

Rose  continued  her  way  into  the  house  and 
passed  up  the  dimly  lighted  stairs. 

The  night  was  very  warm  and  the  door  on 
to  the  balcony  stood  open.  She  pulled  out  a 
chair  and  sat  down.  Leaning  her  head  back 
against  the  cushion  she  fixed  her  eyes  on  the 
myriads  of  little  twinkling  lights  which  looked 
down  at  her  from  the  great  blue  vault  above, 
and  a  wistful  expression  crept  over  her  face. 

Hitherto  she  had  watched  Vilma  Seybell's 
small  triumphs  with  indifference.  Every  even- 
ing the  same  thing  went  on:  there  was  music 
and  dancing,  or  impromptu  entertainments 
were  got  up  by  the  soldiers  keen  after  a  hard 
day's  work  for  something  on  which  to  vent 
their  high  spirits.  It  had  amused  her  to  watch 
them.  To-night  she  was  conscious  of  a  dis- 
cordant note  which  jarred,  and  she  wondered 
why.  What  had  aroused  in  her  a  train  of 


Frau  Wolff  Stirs  the  Gossip-pot     21 

memories  which  she  did  not  wish  to  revive? 
Was  it  the  sound  of  an  English  voice  which 
she  had  not  heard  for  so  long?  Or  was  it 
Frau  Wolff's  inquisitive  questioning? 

Frau  Wolff  had  asked  her  if  she  was  a 
widow?  She  was  only  twenty-five  and  she 
had  been  a  widow  for  three  years.  Three 
years  of  lonely  wanderings  with  only  the  child 
as  her  companion. 

She  moved  her  head  restlessly,  and  a  sigh 
escaped  her. 

"And  always  pinching  and  saving  and 
calculating.  It 's  so  sordid  and  dreary! 
What  am  I  to  do  when  he  is  n't  a  baby  any 
longer?  He  's  getting  big  so  dreadfully  quick. 
And  he  wants  such  a  lot,  and  I  want  to  give 
him  everything,  and  I  can't.  If  I  were  to  die, 
what  would  become  of  him?  " 

It  haunted  her  like  a  nightmare — that 
future.  What  could  she  do  for  him?  How 
could  she  make  up  to  him  for  what  he  had 
lost?  He  had  been  so  cruelly  wronged.  The 
innocent  victim  of  an  old  man's  tyranny  and 
revenge.  She  could  not  give  him  back  his 
lost  birthright,  and  he  had  lost  it  through  her. 
There  lay  the  bitterness  of  the  sting. 

"I  will  not  think  of  it — I  dare  not,"  she 
murmured. 


22         With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Lights  still  streamed  from  the  windows  o£ 
the  Lese  Saal,  but  the  dancing  had  ceased. 
A  brooding  stillness  hung  over  the  shadowy 
garden.  Suddenly  her  attitude  changed.  She 
sat  upright  and  listened  intently. 

The  sound  of  a  violin  floated  out  on  the 
still  air.  Plaintive,  yearning:  the  trembling 
sweetness  of  the  notes  seemed  to  stretch  out 
beseeching  hands  to  her  across  the  soft  barrier 
of  the  night's  darkness. 

She  knew  every  rise  and  fall  of  the  melody. 
Its  tender  cadence,  the  entreaty  of  its  appeal, 
strained  her  heart  to  positive  pain.  An  agony 
of  longing  and  wild  regret  swept  over  her. 

She  pressed  her  fingers  against  her  throb- 
bing temples  as  on  and  on  floated  the  haunting 
refrain ;  now  pulsing  with  subtle  meaning,  now 
pleading  for  love,  now  sobbing  for  broken 
dreams.  It  rose  and  fell  and  quivered  on  the 
scented  air.  Wafted  this  way  and  that,  it  laid 
its  trembling  burden  of  sweetness  and  sadness 
at  her  feet. 

Scalding  tears  smarted  under  her  closed 
eyelids.  A  passionate  rebellion  resolutely 
kept  under  broke  from  its  control — she  bowed 
her  head  on  her  clasped  hands  and  wept 
bitterly. 


CHAPTER  III 

VILMA  SEYBELL  INTERVENES 

PHE  day  had  been  hot — overpoweringly 
hot.  So  hot  that  to  cross  a  patch  of 
sunshine  required  concentration  of  purpose 
and  an  obvious  necessity  for  getting  to  the 
other  side.  The  lawn  tennis  court  had  been 
deserted  all  day,  but  now  that  the  shadows 
were  beginning  to  lengthen  across  its  sun- 
baked surface,  a  little  stir  of  life  was  noticeable 
in  its  vicinity. 

The  soldiers  made  a  practice  of  coming  up 
to  Schloss  Waldhof  for  lawn  tennis  after  the 
day's  work  was  done.  They  had  their  coffee 
in  the  shady  garden  and  smoked  and  read  the 
papers  until  it  was  cool  enough  to  play.  Then 
they  gradually  collected  round  the  tennis 
court.  They  were  very  keen  about  their  games, 
and  they  always  scored  in  English.  They  be- 
gan by  bowing  to  their  opponents  across  the 
net  and  saying ' '  Zank  you  very  much. ' '  They 

23 


24         With  the  Merry  Austrians 

shouted  "Play-e-e"  and  "Ready-e-e"  as  often 
as  they  could,  and  reached  a  climax  of  enthusi- 
asm when  the  game  was  "Love"  and  "Love 
all." 

That  afternoon  it  was  certainly  hotter  than 
usual.  The  atmosphere  was  oppressive.  To 
play  tennis  in  a  tight  uniform  with  the  ther- 
mometer standing  at  eighty  in  the  shade  was 
trying.  Before  long  the  benches  at  the  end 
of  the  court  were  strewn  with  cuffs  and  swords 
and  spurs  and  black  jam-pot  hats,  and  any- 
thing else  that  was  detachable. 

Vilma  Seybell  made  her  appearance  as  soon 
as  she  thought  it  was  worth  while.  She  con- 
sidered she  played  tennis  very  well.  She 
dashed  about  the  court  and  threw  herself  into 
exaggerated  attitudes;  poached  her  partner's 
balls  and  missed  her  own.  Her  mother  sat  on 
one  of  the  benches  among  the  swords  and  hats 
and  applauded  timidly. 

Rose  Trevor  was  lying  in  a  long  basket 
chair  under  the  shade  of  a  chestnut  tree.  She 
could  see  the  tennis  court  in  the  distance. 

They  were  all  there.  Vilma  and  the  stout 
General,  who  was  the  most  enthusiastic  player 
of  them  all,  and  a  crowd  of  young  officers, 
most  of  whom  she  knew  by  sight. 

A  book  lay  open  on  her  lap,  but  every  two 


Vilma  Seybell  Intervenes          25 

minutes  her  attention  was  claimed  by  Benjie, 
who  was  playing  at  keeping  a  chemist's  shop 
beside  her  chair.  He  had  turned  his  wheel- 
barrow upside  down  and  was  laying  out  on  it 
neat  little  rows  of  powders  and  mud  pies. 
His  mother  was  gravely  making  her  choice 
between  a  yellow  powder  and  a  brown  one 
when  a  tennis  ball,  hit  at  random  from  the 
court,  spun  across  the  top  of  the  wheelbarrow 
and  scattered  the  chemist's  shop  to  the  winds. 

Benjie  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then 
went  after  it. 

"You  must  send  it  back,"  said  his  mother, 
and  he  reluctantly  obeyed. 

His  shot  was  not  a  good  one.  The  ball 
only  carried  a  few  yards  and  landed  in  a  patch 
of  uncut  grass.  Clasping  his  hands  behind  his 
back  and  planting  his  legs  very  wide  apart 
(which  was  his  favourite  attitude),  he  waited 
to  see  what  would  happen. 

A  minute  later  his  voice  rang  out,  shrill,  and 
broken  with  peals  of  laughter. 

"Oh,  muwer,  muwer,  do  look!  Do  look 
at  the  soldier  man ! " 

Rose  glanced  round.  One  of  the  young 
officers  was  coming  towards  the  child.  He  was 
performing  a  succession  of  Catherine  wheels 
over  the  grass,  and  as  he  drew  nearer  he 


26         With  the  Merry  Austrians 

turned  a  somersault  and  then  stood  still  and 
saluted. 

Benjie  hugged  his  waistband  and  danced 
with  delight.  He  ventured  a  step  nearer  and 
pointed  to  where  the  ball  lay  hidden. 

The  young  man  was  slight  and  fair,  and 
there  was  a  suspicion  of  devilry  in  his  blue 
eyes. 

He  picked  up  the  ball  and  threw  it  gently 
towards  Benjie,  who  sent  it  spinning  back  at 
his  head. 

Vilma  SeybelTs  voice  was  heard  calling  from 
the  tennis  court. 

"Herr  Bar-on!     Herr  Baron!'* 

The  young  man  paid  no  attention.  He 
continued  playing,  and  as  the  game  was  being 
carried  on  at  the  back  of  her  chair,  Rose  did 
not  feel  that  she  was  called  upon  to  interfere. 

' '  Herr  Baron !  Herr  Baron  Scholan ! ' '  cried 
Vilma,  peremptorily. 

"Sacrament!"  muttered  the  young  Baron, 
angrily.  He  glanced  towards  the  basket  chair, 
but  there  was  nothing  visible  except  the  back 
view  of  a  very  pretty  head.  He  tossed  the 
ball  up  in  the  air,  and,  waving  an  adieu  to 
Benjie,  sauntered  back  to  the  tennis  court. 

Five  minutes  later  the  same  thing  happened 
again.  The  tennis  balls  seemed  to  have  a 


Vilma  Seybell  Intervenes          27 

special  aptitude  for  rolling  in  that  direction. 
Rose  began  to  suspect  that  it  was  not  entirely 
accidental. 

It  was  useless  trying  to  recall  Benjie  to  his 
powders  and  mud  pies.  Vilma  Seybell  became 
exasperated.  She  rushed  after  the  ball  herself 
on  the  next  occasion,  and  when  Benjie,  with 
childlike  confidence,  went  up  to  her  with  it  in 
his  hand,  she  snatched  it  from  him  and  turned 
away  without  a  word  of  thanks. 

Rose  flushed  crimson.  She  sprang  up  and 
called  the  child  to  her. 

"Come,"  she  said  shortly.  "We  will  go 
for  a  walk.  Odious  woman!"  she  murmured 
vehemently  to  herself  as  she  picked  up  her 
book. 

But  Benjie  was  loth  to  go. 

"He  's  looking  at  me,  muwer,"  he  pleaded, 
dragging  the  toes  of  his  boots  reluctantly  over 
the  grass  and  straining  to  look  back  over  his 
shoulder.  "I  don't  like  walks.  I  like  the 
soldier  man." 

Rose  was  unable  to  explain  to  him  her 
reasons  for  taking  him  away.  His  friendliness 
to  strangers  was  continually  landing  her  in 
difficulties.  She  looked  round  in  the  hope 
of  seeing  something  that  might  distract  his 
attention. 


28          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"Listen!"  she  said.  "I  hear  a  whip  being 
cracked.  There  's  a  carriage  coming.  We  '11 
go  and  see  the  horses." 

A  dusty  diligence,  piled  with  luggage,  drove 
in  at  the  entrance  to  the  courtyard  of  the 
Schloss.  Its  appearance  was  welcomed  by  a 
shout  from  the  tennis  court,  and  the  General 
was  seen  hurrying  across  the  stretch  of  grass 
towards  it. 

From  the  inside  of  the  diligence  stepped 
a  dainty  little  lady,  who  laughed  gaily  and 
held  out  her  hands  towards  him.  She  was 
quite  young  and  she  was  exquisitely  dressed. 
Diamonds  twinkled  in  her  pretty  ears  and  a 
piquant  face  sparkled  and  dimpled  from  be- 
hind the  folds  of  a  long  veil  which  was  twisted 
round  her  hat  and  fell  over  her  shoulders. 

The  General  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her  loudly  and  repeatedly  on  either  cheek.  She 
was  his  "Liebe  Fmu."  He  did  not  care  who 
looked  on  and  saw  him  do  it.  He  gave  some 
directions  about  the  luggage  to  the  driver  of 
the  diligence,  and  tucking  his  wife's  hand  under 
his  arm,  he  carried  her  off  to  have  coffee  in  the 
garden. 

That  evening  after  supper  there  was  again 
music  and  dancing  in  the  Lese  Saal,  but  Vilma 
was  not  the  centre  of  attraction.  Her  fickle 


Vilma  Seybell  Intervenes          29 

court  clustered  round  the  newcomer,  who 
smiled  on  them  all.  Vilma  was  not  even  able 
to  keep  the  Englishman  to  herself.  As  Rose 
passed  through  the  garden  on  her  return  from 
her  usual  solitary  ramble  in  the  dusk,  she 
caught  a  glimpse  of  him  being  presented  to  the 
General's  wife,  and  Vilma  was  looking  on. 

The  wooden  boarding  of  Frau  Wolff's 
balcony  creaked  loudly  as  she  passed  under 
it,  and  a  thick  whisper  floated  down  from  the 
darkness  above. 

"Ze  Grafin  Rentier,  who  is  ze  wife  of  ze 
General,  haf  arrived.  Ze  Baronin  Seybell 
regards  her  vis  eyes  of  jealousy." 


CHAPTER  IV 

GRAFIN    RENTIER    "PRESENTS"     THE    ENGLISH 
LADY 

"THERE  was  tennis  again  the  following 
*  afternoon,  and  Benjie  could  not  under- 
stand why  his  mother  would  not  sit  in  her 
usual  place  under  the  chestnut  tree. 

She  always  sat  there.  She  had  sat  there 
yesterday,  and  yesterday  had  been  a  red-letter 
day  in  his  calendar.  He  was  woefully  dis- 
appointed. He  caught  glimpses  through  the 
trees  of  blue-coated  figures  and  the  glitter  of 
swords;  it  was  unkind  of  his  mother,  and  he 
could  not  understand  it  at  all. 

He  leant  disconsolately  over  the  edge  of  the 
fountain  in  the  garden,  and  splashed  the  water 
backwards  and  forwards  with  his  stick. 

"Take  care,"  said  his  mother,  "or  you  '11 
tumble  in,"  and  she  laid  hold  of  him  by  the 
seat  of  his  little  white  trousers. 

Feeling  himself  secure,  he  leant  over  still 
30 


Grafin  Presents  the  English  Lady    31 

farther  and  splashed  harder.  He  made  so 
much  noise  that  Rose  was  not  aware  that  any 
one  was  near  her,  until  she  heard  a  voice  at 
her  elbow. 

She  pulled  Benjie  hastily  back  on  to  the 
grass. 

The  General's  wife  stood  beside  her.  She 
held  a  tennis  racquet  in  her  hand,  and  was 
laughing  at  Benjie's  round  eyes  of  wonder. 
She  turned  to  Rose,  with  a  pretty  air  of  appeal. 

"I  have  come  to  ask  if  you  will  play  tennis 
with  us."  She  put  her  hands  together,  and 
added  eagerly:  "Do  please  say  that  you  will 
come." 

Rose  drew  back,  taken  by  surprise. 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you.  I — I  never  play 
tennis." 

Grafin  Rentier  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Oh,  that  does  not  matter.  Macht  nichts, 
we  say  in  this  country.  Do  say  that  you  will 
come."  She  glanced  in  the  direction  of  the 
court.  "I  dare  not  go  back  without  you — 
indeed  I  dare  not.  You  will  come,  and  you 
will  bring  with  you  the  little  one  also?  " 

Benjie  slipped  his  hand  into  his  mother's, 
and  squeezed  it  hard. 

The  Grafin  tapped  him  lightly  on  the 
shoulder  with  her  racquet. 


32          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"You  are  the  little  boy  who  played  ball 
with  my  soldier  brother  yesterday?  You  will 
come  and  play  with  him  again — will  you 
not?" 

Her  smile  was  irresistible.  Benjie  put  his 
other  hand  into  hers,  and  waited  in  an  agony  of 
expectancy  to  see  what  his  mother  would  do. 
He  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as  she  turned  away 
from  the  fountain. 

Grafin  Rentier  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  her  invitation  was  accepted.  Before 
Rose  quite  realised  what  she  was  doing,  she 
found  herself  walking  slowly  over  the  grass 
by  her  side. 

"I  did  not  hear  you  come  up  to  us,"  she 
explained  a  little  shyly.  "And  being  spoken 
to  in  English,  it  took  me  by  surprise." 

The  Grafin  laughed. 

"  Do  I  speak  English  well?  " 

"Very  well.  I  only  wish  my  German  was 
as  good." 

"In  Austria  we  speak  English  much.  It 
is  the  fashion.  My  brother,  he  also  speaks 
English."  She  glanced  at  Rose;  her  bright 
expression  softened.  "I  fear  that  you  must 
have  found  it  lonely  here  at  Waldhof ,  because 
it  has  been  told  to  me  that  you  are  a  widow. 
You  have  only  the  little  one  for  a  companion?  " 


Grafin  Presents  the  English  Lady    33 

Rose  looked  down  at  Benjie. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  quietly.  "He  is  all 
that  I  have." 

They  were  slowly  approaching  the  tennis 
court,  and  Ilka  Rentier  paused  for  a  second. 

"I  know  that  you  are  thinking  how  strange 
of  me  to  speak  to  you.  I  will  explain.  I  had 
only  just  descended  from  the  carriage  yester- 
day evening,  when  I  heard  all  about  you. 
Since  then  I  have  had  no  peace.  It  has  been 
always,  always:  'When  will  you  make  friends 
with  the  English  lady?  When  will  you  intro- 
duce me  to  the  English  lady? ' ' 

To  Rose's  look  of  inquiry,  she  made  a 
sweeping  gesture  with  her  racquet. 

"They  all— my  brother  Rudolf:  all,  all 
these  offiziere  have  been  dying  to  make  your 
acquaintance,  but  there  was  no  one  to  present 
them.  You  are  not  offended?  It  is  the  way 
with  our  people.  When  they  love,  they  love 
quickly.  You  are  more  cold  in  England.  Is 
it  not  so?"  They  had  now  reached  the 
benches  at  the  end  of  the  tennis  court,  and 
she  lowered  her  voice.  "  I  must  present  them 
all — one  by  one,  or  else  it  would  give  offence. 
It  appears  formidable,  but  never  mind." 

Rose  thought  it  was  very  formidable.  The 
list  of  presentations  seemed  endless,  and  the 


34         With  the  Merry  Austrians 

names  were  wildly  confusing.  The  introduc- 
tions were  taken  very  seriously.  The  bows 
were  deep  and  prolonged,  and  hardly  any  one 
spoke. 

"I  shall  never  remember  one  of  their 
names,"  she  said  in  an  undertone,  as  the  last 
blue  tunic  retired  to  join  a  group  of  other  blue 
tunics. 

"Oh,  it  does  not  matter.  Macht  nichts, 
again,"  laughed  the  Grafm.  "I  also  do  not 
quite  remember.  If  you  say  'Herr  Major,' 
or  'Herr  Hauptman,'  or  'Herr  Leutnant,'  it 
will  be  quite  all  right."  She  drew  Rose  down 
on  the  bench  beside  her,  and  a  mischievous 
gleam  came  into  her  eyes.  "Do  you  know 
what  I  am  looking  forward  to  with  an  immense 
pleasure?  I  am  waiting  for  the  moment  when 
Vilma  Seybell,  who  is  now  playing  tennis  with 
my  brother  Rudolf,  will  turn  round  and  dis- 
cover that  you  are  sitting  here  amongst  us." 

Rose  glanced  apprehensively  at  a  group  of 
officers  who  were  standing  within  earshot. 

The  Grafin  shook  her  head. 

"They  will  not  understand — not  yet  at 
least,  although  they  have  all  bought  phrase 
books  and  are  learning  to  speak  English.  The 
Herr  Major  has  learnt  to  say  'shocking,'  and 
the  Herr  Hauptman  can  say  'never  mind,' 


Grafin  Presents  the  English  Lady    35 

but  they  generally  say  'shocking'  when  they 
mean  'never  mind,'  and  'never  mind'  when 
they  mean  'shocking,'  so  it  is  a  little  confusing. 
How  I  wish  they  would  finish  playing!  I  am 
longing  to  see  what  Vilma  will  do.  I  do  not 
like  her,  you  must  know.  We  meet  often — 
in  Vienna  and  other  places — but  there  is  no 
love  between  us.  Vilma  must  always  be  the 
only  one.  She  is  jealous  like  a  cat." 

She  changed  the  subject  quickly.  It  was 
characteristic  of  her  to  change  subjects  sud- 
denly and  irrelevantly. 

"Your  little  one  is  very  good.  He  sits  still 
and  does  not  speak." 

Rose  glanced  down  at  Benjie. 

"He  is  not  generally  so  quiet." 

"I  'm  waitin'  for  the  soldier  man,"  said 
Benjie  stolidly,  and  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  tennis  court. 

"So  am  I,"  answered  the  Grafin.  "Rudolf 
is  very  cross.  He  is  knocking  the  balls  about 
all  anyhow.  He  is  trying  to  finish  the  game, 
for  he  wishes  to  come  here  and  to  be  presented 
to  you." 

She  turned  laughingly  to  Rose. 

"You  know  he  has  quite,  quite  fallen  in  love 
with  you.  Oh,  terribly  in  love.  He  is  always 
in  love.  This  time  it  is  heels  over  head.  Ah, 


36         With  the  Merry  Austrians 

now  the  game  is  finished!  The  last  two  balls 
he  sent  right  up  into  the  cherry  trees.  Did 
you  see?  Now,  now!"  she  whispered,  "I  will 
present  you  to  Rudolf  and  Vilma  Seybell." 

Rose  felt  Benjie's  fingers  tighten  over  hers. 
The  moment  for  which  he  had  been  patiently 
waiting  had  arrived.  He  scrambled  down 
from  the  bench  and  went  forward  a  few  steps. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do? "  she  asked. 

"I  'm  goin'  to  s'lute  the  soldier  man." 

Straightening  up  his  little  body  he  raised  his 
hand  to  his  forehead. 

The  young  Baron  returned  the  salute  as 
gravely  and  ceremoniously  as  though  the 
child  had  been  a  grown  man.  Benjie  stood 
quite  still  for  a  moment,  then  he  seized 
Rudolf's  hand  and  dragged  him  back  towards 
the  bench. 

"Muwer!"  he  gasped  breathlessly,  "I  'm 
bringin'  him.  The  soldier  man.  I  'm  bringin' 
him.  He  's  comin'  to  s'lute  you." 

Ilka  Rentier  clapped  her  hands. 

"Such  an  introduction  requires  no  help  from 
me.  The  little  one  is  already  a  Master  of 
Ceremonies.  Ah ! ' ' — an  exclamation  of  annoy- 
ance escaped  her.  "See  what  has  happened! 
That  Vilma! — is  she  not  a  cat?  The  English- 
man has  appeared  and  she  runs  to  meet  him. 


Grafin  Presents  the  English  Lady    37 

They  talk,  and  now  she  walks  away  with  him. 
So — but  I  must  wait  for  another  time." 

Mr.  Egerton  had  arrived  at  exactly  the  right 
moment  for  Vilma. 

"Where  have  you  been  all  day?"  she  cried. 
"Ah,  sketching!"  as  she  caught  sight  of  a 
book  bulging  from  his  pocket.  "  Do  show  me 
what  you  have  done.  I  so  adore  your  sketches. 
They  are  so  clever." 

Vilma  spoke  English  more  correctly  than 
Ilka  Rentier.  Ilka  was  always  convincing, 
but  she  was  so  much  in  a  hurry  to  say  what 
she  wanted  to  say  that  she  used  the  first  words 
which  came  into  her  head,  whether  they 
belonged  to  one  language  or  another. 

Mr.  Egerton  did  not  take  the  book  out  of  his 
pocket. 

"I  haven't  done  anything,"  he  said. 
"I  Ve  spent  the  day  exploring  the  country." 

His  attention  strayed  towards  the  group  at 
the  end  of  the  tennis  court.  Vilma  distracted 
it  by  stumbling  over  the  guy  rope  and  tried  to 
walk  him  away  in  the  opposite  direction.  He 
looked  again  across  the  court  as  though  to 
assure  himself  of  something,  and  then  allowed 
himself  to  be  monopolised. 

Vilma  was  not  a  dull  companion.  She  was 
clever,  and  she  could  be  amusing.  Myles  had 


38          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

spent  part  of  the  previous  winter  in  Vienna, 
and  one  way  and  another  he  had  seen  a  good 
deal  of  Vilma.  They  had  drifted  into  a  kind 
of  friendship  which  he  had  never  taken  the 
trouble  actually  to  define.  Vilma  had  defined 
it  very  conclusively. 

He  allowed  her  to  walk  him  backwards  and 
forwards  without  showing  any  signs  of  impa- 
tience. He  listened  to  what  she  was  saying, 
but  he  was  aware  that  Rudolf  Scholan  had 
been  introduced  to  Mrs.  Trevor  and  had 
taken  the  seat  beside  her.  From  the  sounds 
which  came  to  him  at  intervals  it  was  evident 
that  Rudolf  was  amusing  the  mother  as  well 
as  the  child. 

Presently  he  saw  Leopoldina,  in  her  pictur- 
esque peasant  dress,  come  over  the  grass  from 
the  direction  of  the  Schloss,  and  then  return, 
taking  Benjie  with  her.  As  her  white  sleeves 
and  cherry-coloured  ribbons  disappeared  out 
of  sight,  he  came  to  a  standstill. 

Vilma  made  a  movement  as  though  she 
would  continue  walking,  but  he  did  not 
respond. 

"I  have  not  paid  my  respects  to  Grafin 
Rentier,"  he  said.  "I  must  do  so.  I  do  not 
want  her  to  call  me  a  rude  Englishman." 

Vilma's  lips  tightened. 


Grafin  Presents  the  English  Lady    39 

"Have  you  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
English  lady?"  she  asked  sharply. 

"I  have  not  been  introduced  to  her," 
answered  Myles. 

Vilma  did  not  wish  him  to  join  the  group 
on  the  other  side  of  the  tennis  court.  She  had 
been  straining  every  nerve  for  the  last  twenty 
minutes  to  prevent  him;  but  she  knew  that  if 
he  had  set  his  mind  on  doing  it  he  would  take 
his  own  way. 

She  threw  back  her  head  impatiently.  If 
he  went,  she  went  with  him. 

"We  will  go,"  she  said.  "Yes,  of  course 
we  will  go." 

Rose  saw  the  couple  coming  towards  her. 
Vilma's  attitude,  her  manner  of  talking,  the 
way  she  bent  towards  her  companion,  were 
intended  to  show  that  the  Englishman  was  her 
own  private  property. 

' '  How  funny ! "  she  thought.  ' '  And  he  did 
not  want  a  fuss,  or  the  hotel  to  gossip.  He 
must  be  very  unimaginative  not  to  have  found 
her  out." 

As  he  stood  near,  talking  to  the  Grafin,  she 
saw  him  more  clearly  than  she  had  done  on  the 
verandah  the  evening  before. 

He  was  tall  and  dark.  The  thin,  sun- 
browned  face  could  lay  no  great  claim  to 


40          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

good  looks.  The  features  were  well  marked, 
but  she  could  not  see  his  eyes,  for  the  brim 
of  a  weather-beaten  felt  hat  was  pulled  down 
over  his  brow. 

Vilma  bowed  stiffly,  but  otherwise  took  no 
notice  of  Rose.  It  did  not  cause  any  awk- 
wardness, as  Ilka  Rentier  almost  at  once 
brought  up  the  Englishman  and  introduced 
him  also.  He  had  evidently  asked  her  to 
do  so. 

Rudolf  Scholan  was  called  by  the  General 
to  make  up  a  set  of  tennis,  and  he  went  re- 
luctantly. Myles  glanced  at  the  seat  he  had 
vacated  and  Rose  was  curious  to  see  what 
he  would  do.  She  was  not  vindictive,  but  he 
was  a  friend  of  Vilma's.  It  stirred  within  her 
a  faint  sense  of  antagonism. 

He  drew  in  the  vacant  chair  and  sat 
down. 

"I  have  been  hoping  for  an  opportunity  of 
apologising  for  my  behaviour  of  yesterday," 
he  said.  "Appearances  were  against  me. 
Don't  you  think  so?" 

She  murmured  a  polite  reply  which  might 
mean  anything. 

"I  saw  my  little  friend  a  few  minutes  ago, 
but  he  would  not  take  any  notice  of  me.  I 
expect  he  was  thinking  about  his  supper." 


Grann  Presents  the  English  Lady    41 

"I  am  afraid  Benjie  is  not  very  fond  of  his 
supper,"  she  said. 

"  Oh ! "  Myles  thought  for  a  moment.  "  I 
imagined  all  little  boys  were  fond  of  their 
supper." 

Rose  put  down  her  parasol.  The  sun  had 
dipped  behind  the  crest  of  the  hill. 

"Perhaps  he  is  an  exception,  or  perhaps  he 
is  outgrowing  the  simplicity  of  bread  and 
milk." 

Myles  dug  a  little  hole  in  the  ground  with 
the  iron  point  of  his  alpenstock.  Now  that 
the  shade  of  the  parasol  was  removed  he  could 
see  her  more  distinctly.  She  looked  as  though 
she  could  talk  about  something  more  interest- 
ing than  bread  and  milk,  he  thought. 

He  made  conversation,  about  the  weather 
and  the  heat  and  the  picturesqueness  of 
Waldhof.  The  Schloss  was  a  fine  old  speci- 
men of  architecture.  He  was  evidently  inter- 
ested in  Tyrolean  history.  He  was  quite 
instructive.  Rudolf  had  not  been  at  all 
instructive.  He  had  been  very  amusing  and 
he  possessed  that  delightful  charm,  the  charm 
of  perfect  unself -consciousness.  It  was  as 
natural  to  him  as  the  air  he  breathed.  Invol- 
untarily Rose  drew  a  comparison  between  the 
two  men. 


42          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"I  have  just  been  making  a  tour  through 
the  Dolomite  country, ' '  continued  Myles.  ' '  If 
you  have  not  been  there,  you  ought  to  go. 
The  scenery  is  magnificent." 

"So  I  have  always  heard,"  answered  Rose. 

Her  voice  lacked  interest. 

"  I  tried  to  take  a  sketch  of  one  or  two  places, 
but  they  're  rather  rough,"  said  Myles. 

Any  one  knowing  him  would  have  been  very 
much  surprised  at  his  next  action.  He  drew 
his  sketch-book  out  of  his  pocket  and  opened 
it.  He  took  out  one  of  the  sketches,  and  held 
it  at  arm's  length. 

"Rather  gaudy,"  he  said. 

"It's  a  wonderful  effect  of  colour,"  said 
Rose  after  a  moment's  consideration. 

"It  was  taken  at  dawn,  just  below  the 
Monte  Cristallo.  That  blood-red  glow  on  the 
snow  is  rather  difficult  to  catch  at  the  right 
moment.  I  had  to  camp  out  all  night." 

The  sketch  was  clever — bold  and  broad,  and 
the  colour  was  startling  in  its  vivid  intensity. 
Rose  was  interested  in  spite  of  herself.  She 
was  too  generous  not  to  admit  it. 

"  May  I  see  some  more?  "  she  said. 

He  turned  over  one  or  two  sketches.  A 
loose  sheet  slipped  and  fluttered  to  the  ground. 
It  fell  within  a  few  inches  of  Vilma's  feet.  She 


Grafin  Presents  the  English  Lady    43 

could  not  fail  to  notice  it.  It  lay  face  upper- 
most, a  patch  of  bright  colour  against  the  sun- 
dried  grass. 

An  angry  light  came  into  her  eyes.  He 
had  made  an  excuse  and  refused  to  show  her 
his  sketch-book,  and  yet  he  was  showing  it  to 
this  English  girl,  whom  he  hardly  knew.  She 
felt  that  she  hated  the  English  girl.  She  had 
tried  to  keep  her  out  of  their  circle  and  would 
have  succeeded  if  Ilka  Rentier  had  not  spoilt 
everything  by  making  friends  with  her. 

She  was  too  angry  to  sit  still  and  look  on. 
She  got  up  and  left  the  tennis  court  abruptly. 

Myles  picked  up  the  sketch.  He  had  not 
noticed  Vilma's  annoyance. 

"  May  I  see  it?  "  said  Rose. 

He  hesitated,  then  he  gave  it  to  her. 

"A  little  place  in  the  north  of  Italy,"  he 
said.  "Very  primitive  part  of  the  world. 
There  's  a  diligence  runs  from  Belluno  across 
the  frontier  to  Cortina;  I  came  that  way." 

He  did  not  look  at  her. 

She  handed  him  back  the  sketch  without 
making  any  remark. 


CHAPTER  V 

"BUT   YOU   ARE  A   VERY   NICE   ENGLISH!" 

HTHE  Speise  Saal  was  more  than  usually 
*  crowded  that  evening,  and  Frau  Wolff 
was  not  present.  Rose  was  very  glad.  She 
did  not  wish  to  talk  to  Frau  Wolff. 

Ilka  Rentier,  who  was  with  her  husband  at 
one  of  the  small  tables,  did  not  leave  the 
room  when  supper  was  over,  but  came  across 
to  where  Rose  was  sitting.  She  held  a  lighted 
cigarette  between  her  fingers  and  laid  her  case 
on  the  table  and  nodded  towards  it. 

"You  smoke?  No?  If  you  do  not  object 
I  will  sit  with  you  and  finish  my  cigarette." 
She  drew  in  a  chair.  "Of  what  are  you 
thinking?  Are  you  comparing  us  with  the 
society  of  your  own  country?  Do  you  find 
Waldhof  agreeable?  " 

Rose's  thoughts  had  been  far  away  from 
Waldhof.  She  had  been  dreaming.  Dream- 
ing of  a  little  village  in  sunny  Italy.  A  white- 

44 


"But  You  Are  a  Very  Nice  English"  45 

walled  house  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
village,  round  it  clustered  the  olive  woods. 
High  up  on  the  hillside  lay  a  lonely  graveyard 
where  the  cypress  trees  swayed  in  the  breeze, 
pointing  their  dark  fingers  to  heaven.  She 
knew  it  all  so  well,  and  this  Englishman,  he 
knew  it  too.  It  was  so  strange.  Why  had 
he  made  that  sketch? — for  the  little  village  had 
nothing  very  characteristic  about  it;  nothing 
likely  to  attract  an  artist's  fancy.  It  was 
very  strange ! 

She  was  glad  that  Ilka  had  broken  in  upon 
her  thoughts,  but  she  welcomed  her  a  little 
shyly.  She  had  grown  so  unaccustomed  to 
being  sought  out  and  made  friends  with. 

"Waldhof  is  very  kind  to  me,"  she  said. 
"You  all  know  each  other  so  well  here,  just 
like  a  big  family,  and  I  am  quite  a  stranger 
-and  English." 

"But  that  is  all  the  more  agreeable,  because 
you  are  a  very  nice  English.  Oh,  I  have  met 
a  great  many  English.  When  one  travels  one 
meets  them,  and  it  gives  me  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure  to  study  them." 

Rose  saw  that  her  eyes  were  twinkling. 

"Do  we  amuse  you? " 

Ilka  laughed. 

"You  would  call  me  most  impolite  if  I  say 


46          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

yes!  It  would  appear  that  I  was  making  fun 
of  you,  which  is  not  true.  I  love  the  English 
very  much." 

"No,  I  should  not  think  you  were  making 
fun  of  us.  I  wonder  how  we  appear  to  you?  " 

"You  would  not  be  offended  if  I  make  a 
little  play  for  you?  No — I  do  not  think  you 
are  stiff." 

She  drew  herself  up  and  hid  her  cigarette. 

"There  is  a  kind  of  English  which  is  like 
• — this.  She  is  very  hochwohlgeboren.  She 
comes  into  the  salon  elegantly.  She  has  a 
neat  head  and  she  is  very  distinguished,  and 
she  never  forgets  that  she  is  distinguished. 
When  she  goes  walking  her  boots  say  to  the 
stones,  '  I  do  not  wish  to  make  your  acquaint- 
ance.' But  ach  mein  Gott!  there  is  again 
quite  another  kind  of  English  who  much 
frizzes  her  hair  and  is  not  elegant.  She  wears 
a  very  short  skirt  and  walks  with  a  stick. 
Her  hat!  It  has  been  rained  upon  many 
times.  On  Sundays  she  puts  on  her  best 
clothes  and  goes  to  church.  Do  you  know 
her?" 

Rose  laughed. 

"  What  other  funny  things  do  we  do?  " 

Ilka  rattled  on  gaily. 

"Your  Englishman  when  he  is  hochwohl- 


"  But  You  Are  a  Very  Nice  English  1 "  47 

geboren!  He  comes  into  a  room  with  a 
look  of  suspicion.  He  has  a  high  collar  and 
a  high  head,  and  he  is  grim  when  he  speaks. 
He  looks  at  every  one  as  though  he  was  an 
enemy.  He  has  a  higher  collar  and  a  higher 
head  on  Sunday  when  he  goes  to  church  with 
his  wife.  And  he  does  go  to  church  with  his 
wife — our  husbands  do  not." 

She  picked  up  her  cigarette  again. 

"Do  I  not  talk  nonsense?  But  I  do  it  to 
amuse  you,  for  of  course  you  are  not  like 
the  lady  whose  boots  are  so  proud,  or  the 
girl  who  much  frizzes  her  hair." 

She  did  not  wait  for  any  comment. 

"What  do  you  think  of  us?"  she  demanded. 
"That  we  are  barbarians?  In  England  you 
would  not  like  to  eat  in  a  restaurant  with 
but  bare  boards  for  your  feet  and  peasant 
girls  to  wait  on  you?  Here,  at  Waldhof,,  we 
live  like  gipsies." 

"I  think  it  is  delightful,"  said  Rose.  " We 
are  horribly  conventional.  You  do  what  you 
like  because  you  like  it;  not  because  other 
people  think  you  ought  to  do  it." 

' '  Poufl  What  do  the  thinks  of  other  people 
matter?  Also  we  know  all  about  each  other. 
There  is  nothing  to  find  out.  These  officers, 
for  example?  One  knows  what  they  are. 


48          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

How  much  money  they  have.  All  about  their 
families — all — everything.  Do  you  observe 
how  simply  they  eat  and  drink?  Some  are 
richer  than  others,  but  there  is  no  rivalry. 
Do  you  know  they  sometimes  make  a  league 
among  themselves  and  say,  'We  will  only 
spend  so  much  on  our  dinner  and  so  much  on 
our  supper.'  It  is  a  very  good  arrangement, 
for  one  plate  cannot  cry  out  to  the  other,  'I 
am  richer  than  you.'  Money  is  very  pleasant, 
but  it  is  not  everything.  Most  often  it  is 
bourgeois  to  be  rich.  What  then?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  expressively. 

"Money!"  exclaimed  Rose.  "It  is  so  hor- 
ribly vulgar  to  put  money  before  anything 
else.  In  England  I  am  afraid  we  think  a  great 
deal  about  money." 

Ilka  blew  a  little  curl  of  smoke  into  the  air 
and  watched  it  float  towards  the  open  window. 

"But  then  you  cannot  compare  Austrian 
society  with  English  society, ' '  she  said.  ' '  The 
things  of  which  it  is  made  are  altogether 
different.  Your  classes  walk  together  in  a 
way  that  ours  cannot.  Your  aristocracy, 
your  families  of  good  birth,  can  go  into  com- 
merce. They  can  make  soaps,  or  polish  for 
the  boots,  or  sauces  for  the  cuisine.  We  can- 
not, because  our  commerce  is  made  by  the 


"  But  You  Are  a  Very  Nice  English ! "  49 

Jews!  Ach!"  she  exclaimed  contemptuously. 
"And  these  Jews?  Our  husbands  and  our 
sons  cannot  work  side  by  side  in  commerce 
with  a  Jew.  It  would  be  impossible!  Their 
ways  are  not  our  ways.  We  would  not  con- 
descend to  make  money  in  the  way  they  do. 
No !  We  are  not  like  you  in  England.  With 
you  money  can  be  ennobled.  It  can  walk 
hand  in  hand  with  the  most  aristocratic  of 
your  families,  but  we — if  we  stretch  out  to 
gather  riches  we  must  take  the  hand  of  a  Jew. 
It  is  a  pity,  for  our  sons  they  remain  poor." 

Rose  looked  at  Frau  Wolff's  empty  chair. 

"I  wonder  why  it  makes  so  much  dif- 
ference?" she  said  hesitatingly.  "Because  a 
man's  a  Jew  he  is  n't  kept  out  of  society — in 
England." 

Ilka  Rentier  made  a  little  grimace. 

"Ah,  so!  In  England — yes,  that  may  be. 
There  is  a  saying  that  every  country  gets  the 
Jew  which  it  deserves.  Doubtless  you  are 
fortunate.  But  in  Austria — in  Hungary!" 
She  threw  out  her  hands.  "A  Hungarian 
Jew! — Impossible!  Have  we  not  an  example 
here?  From  her  feet  to  her  voice,  which  she 
carries  in  her  nose,  she  is  Jew,  Jew,  Jew!" 

"I  know  her.  She  sits  opposite  to  me  at 
the  table  here." 


5o          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

The  Grafin  nodded. 

1 '  You  have  perhaps  suffered.  She  has  with- 
out doubt  made  of  you  a  glove  which  she  has 
turned  outside  in  and  searched  into  all  the 
extreme  ends  of  the  fingers.  That  is  Jew — to 
be  inquisitive.  I  have  seen  her  watching  the 
world  through  her  opera-glasses.  She  is  in 
great  fear  in  case  one  small  morsel  of  interest 
might  escape  her  observation.  Oh,  she  is  a 
most  terrible  person.  Do  not  let  us  talk  of 
her  any  more.  What  are  you  going  to  do  now  ? 
How  do  you  amuse  yourself?  Last  night 
you  did  not  come  to  the  Lese  Saal,  and 
to-night  I  also  do  not  go  there.  I  return  to 
my  own  apartments."  A  sudden  idea  seemed 
to  strike  her.  "Will  you  come  with  me?" 
she  said.  "I  would  like  to  show  you  where  I 
live.  Our  lodgment  is  in  a  farm.  There. 
You  can  see  it  through  the  window,  but  a  few 
minutes'  walk  from  here." 

"Yes,  I  know  the  farm,"  said  Rose.  "It 
has  a  delightful  dairy.  My  little  boy  loves  to 
play  there." 

"Ah,  so?    You  come  with  me?    Yes?" 

They  passed  out  through  a  side  door  into 
the  garden. 

"You  must  know  that  my  husband  is  the 
Inspecting  General  for  this  district,"  explained 


"  But  You  Are  a  Very  Nice  English ! "  ;si 

Ilka  as  they  went  along.  "When  the  regi- 
ments are  collected  for  the  manoeuvres  he 
must  have  lodgment;  therefore  we  come  to 
Waldhof .  I  find  that  to  live  in  a  farm  with 
the  peasants  and  the  cows  and  the  pigs  is  very- 
amusing.  See!  Here  we  have  already 
arrived." 

She  gathered  up  her  skirts  and  picked  her 
way  across  a  courtyard  which  was  littered 
with  trodden  straw,  and  little  puddles  of 
water. 

"In  such  a  place  one  has  to  be  careful,"  she 
said,  glancing  back  over  her  shoulder.  "It 
would  be  well  if  you  were  to  follow  my  feet." 
She  pointed  in  the  direction  of  some  rather 
tumble-down  stabling.  "It  is  very  conven- 
ient. My  husband  requires  to  keep  his  horses 
here.  There  are  Rudolf's  horses  also — he  is 
Staff  Officer,  you  know.  Sometimes  they  go 
away  for  a  few  days.  It  is  a  large  district  and 
there  are  many  camps,  but  Waldhof  is  our 
headquarters.  Here  I  stay.  This  summer  I 
make  some  visits  before  I  come,  therefore  it 
was  but  yesterday  that  I  arrive." 

She  had  been  chattering  fast  all  the  time 
since  she  left  the  Schloss.  Now  she  stopped 
before  a  wooden  door  crossed  with  heavy  iron 
bars. 


52          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"Shut  your  eyes,"  she  exclaimed.  "Quite, 
quite  shut,  and  give  me  your  hand.  I  wish 
to  lead  you.  I  wish  to  give  you  a  surprise. 
It  must  break  upon  you  very  suddenly." 

Rose  obeyed.  The  door  creaked  on  its 
hinges  and  she  felt  herself  being  drawn  along 
what  appeared  to  be  a  narrow  passage  which 
smelt  damp  and  mouldy.  Then  a  breath  of 
fresh  air  met  her,  and  she  heard  the  Grafin's 
voice  whisper: 

"Be  cautious.  Two  steps  down.  So — now 
you  may  open  your  eyes." 

They  had  emerged  from  the  passage,  which 
was  a  kind  of  tunnel  burrowing  its  way  through 
the  main  portion  of  the  farm-buildings  and 
had  come  out  on  to  a  narrow  terrace  festooned 
and  garlanded  on  every  side  by  great  masses 
of  wistaria.  Ilka  took  Rose's  hand  and  hur- 
ried her  across  to  the  edge  of  the  balustrade. 

Immediately  below  the  terrace  the  ground 
fell  away  abruptly  to  the  banks  of  a  mountain 
torrent.  Its  bed  was  deep  and  broken ;  clouds 
of  silver  spray  marked  the  spot  where  a  great 
spout  of  water  sprang  from  a  cleft  in  the  rock. 

"Is  it  not  charming?"  she  cried. 

"I  thought  you  were  playing  some  trick  on 
me.  What  a  delightful  place!  How  did  you 
find  it?" 


"  But  You  Are  a  Very  Nice  English  I "  53 

"There  are  many  such  in  this  country  if  you 
seek  for  them.  We  have  been  here  for  one, 
two,  three  summers.  The  Hausfrau  of  the 
farm  she  attends  upon  us ;  we  require  but  little 
because  we  eat  at  the  restaurant.  Would  you 
like  to  see  our  rooms?  I  give  you  one 
peep." 

She  drew  Rose  up  to  a  little  iron-barred 
window. 

They  shaded  their  eyes  and  looked  through. 

Bare,  whitewashed  walls,  a  carpetless  floor, 
an  enormous  carved  chest  and  two  wooden 
bedsteads  was  all  that  was  distinguishable. 

Ilka  laughed. 

"When  we  come  to  Waldhof  we  lead  the 
simple  life — Fritz  and  I." 

"If  I  had  this  terrace  I  should  never  want 
to  go  away  from  it,"  said  Rose.  "It  must  be 
cool  here  on  the  hottest  day.  My  rooms  are 
dreadfully  hot,  but —  Of  course  they  are  not 
very  good  rooms.  I  cannot  afford  very  good 
rooms." 

She  went  back  to  the  balustrade  and  sat  on 
the  edge  looking  across  to  the  distant  hills. 
A  baby  moon  showed  its  silver  rim  above 
the  line  of  one  great  sloping  shoulder,  the 
murmur  of  the  waterfall  sounded  in  her  ears. 
A  straggling  mass  of  honeysuckle  twining  its 


54          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

tendrils  amongst  the  wistaria  filled  the  air  with 
sweetness. 

A  new  sweetness  seemed  to  have  crept  into 
her  heart  to-night.  A  shy,  frightened  thing 
that  she  was  almost  afraid  to  capture.  What 
was  it?  It  was  only  a  touch  of  something 
tender  and  human:  a  little  kindness,  a  hand 
stretched  out  in  sympathy. 

She  glanced  at  Ilka. 

How  had  she  done  it?  How  had  she 
spread  this  sense  of  joyousness?  It  seemed 
as  easy  for  her  to  spread  happiness  as  it 
was  to  scatter  the  rose  leaves  which  had 
fallen  from  the  flowers  in  the  bosom  of  her 
dress. 

"Look!"  she  cried,  as  they  fluttered  over 
the  balustrade.  "They  fly  down  in  the  dark- 
ness. Now  the  waterfall  has  gathered  them 
into  its  arms." 

Rose  saw  her  raise  her  head  in  a  listening 
attitude. 

"  Do  you  hear  anything?  "  she  asked. 

Ilka  nodded. 

"It  is  Rudolf  riding  through  the  forest. 
He  has  been  with  despatches,  and  he  must 
have  ridden  very  fast  to  be  back  so  soon. 
Now  we  lose  the  sound.  No — he  is  passing 
over  the  ground  where  the  pine  needles  lie 


"  But  You  Are  a  Very  Nice  English !  '\  55 

soft  and  thick.  Listen!  Again  we  hear. 
He  is  now  crossing  the  water." 

The  hollow  sound  of  hoofs  striking  on  the 
wooden  planking  of  a  bridge  fell  distinctly  on 
their  ears.  They  heard  Rudolf  ride  on  into 
the  stable-yard  and  then  the  call  for  his  ser- 
vant to  come  and  take  his  horse. 

Ilka  threw  the  last  of  the  rose  leaves  over 
the  railing. 

"He  will  go  to  the  restaurant,  and  he  will 
seek  in  the  Speise  Saal  and  the  Lese  Saal 
and  everywhere,  and  we  are  not  there.  Poor 
Rudi!"  ' 


CHAPTER  VI 

COFFEE  AND  ROLLS  AND  A  GREAT  DEAL  OF  LOVE 

DOSE  always  breakfasted  in  the  garden  un- 
*  ^  less  it  rained  or  something  happened  to 
prevent  her.  She  was  out  earlier  than  usual 
the  next  morning,  and  was  sitting  on  the 
verandah  waiting  for  her  coffee  and  rolls  when 
she  heard  the  wicket  gate  which  led  from  the 
grounds  of  the  Schloss  into  the  road  below 
open,  and  Rudolf  Scholan  entered  and  came 
up  the  steps. 

He  looked  as  though  he  quite  expected  to 
find  her  sitting  there.  He  clicked  his  heels 
together  and  bowed. 

"Good    morning,"    he    said,    smiling. 

"Good  morning,"  she  answered.  "I 
thought  I  was  early,  but  you  are  early  also." 

"It  is  very  pleasant  earliness  for  me,"  and 
he  bowed  again. 

He  looked  very  smart  and  well  turned  out. 
He  did  not  wear  his  hair  cropped  to  the  verge 
of  baldness  in  the  way  that  the  majority  of 

56 


Coffee  and  Rolls  and  Love         57 

the  officers  did.  A  fair  moustache  was 
brushed  stiffly  back  from  his  upper  lip,  and  he 
wore  small  side-whiskers  after  the  fashion  in 
the  Austrian  Army. 

"Early? "  he  repeated.  " Oh  no,  this  is  not 
early.  Since  four  hours  the  soldiers  have  been 
drilling  and  marching.  I  have  done  much 
work  already.  Now  I  play.  The  gnadige 
Frau  permits  me  to  breakfast  with  her?" 

Rose  smiled  and  said  yes.  It  occurred  to 
her  that  an  Englishman  would  probably  not 
have  made  the  request  on  so  slight  an  acquain- 
tance. But  there  was  a  delightful  want  of 
self -consciousness  about  Rudolf  that  disarmed 
offence. 

"Do  you  often  come  up  to  the  Schloss  for 
your  morning  coffee?"  she  asked,  as  Marie 
appeared  with  a  heavily-laden  tray.  Seeing 
that  the  Herr  Baron  and  the  English  lady 
were  sitting  together,  she  distributed  the  cups 
and  saucers  equally  between  them. 

"I  go  where  my  heart  takes  me.  I  think 
that  I  will  now  find  that  Schloss  Waldhof 
agrees  with  me  very  well." 

He  altered  the  arrangements  of  the  table  so 
as  to  make  them  more  convenient  and  took  off 
the  lid  of  the  honey  jar. 

"You  must  understand  that  I  always  go 


58          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

where  my  heart  takes  me.     Where  I  love,  I 

go." 

It  was  an  ingenuous  way  of  starting  a  new 
acquaintance.  He  continued  glibly: 

"I  have  loved  a  great  many  times.  So 
many  times  that  I  cannot  remember  the  names 
of  all  the  ladies  that  I  have  loved."  He  began 
counting  on  his  fingers.  "There  was  Bertha, 
and  Editha,  and  Theresa,  and  Wilhelmina 
— "  He  paused.  "Wilhelmina?  No.  I 
loved  not  her  for  long.  She  talk  too  much. 
It  is  not  agreeable  when  a  lady  talk  too  much. 
There  is  nothing  left  to  do.  No,  she  was  not 
long  for  me.  Quick  march,  ponf !  I  stepped 
away. ' '  He  got  up  and  walked  round  the  table. 

Rose  laughed.  How  young  and  fresh  he 
was,  with  his  funny  little  ways  of  expressing 
himself.  One  would  never  dream  of  taking 
him  seriously;  he  did  not  expect  to  be  taken 
seriously. 

"  I  amuse  you?  "  he  said,  as  he  threw  himself 
back  again  in  his  chair.  "Do  you  think  I  am 
a  strange  animal?  An  Englishman?  would 
he  not  talk  to  you  so  of  his  loves?  " 

"I  am  sure  he  would  not.  Englishmen  are 
not  confidential  unless  they  know  you  very 
well.  I  was  only  introduced  to  you  yes- 
terday." 


Coffee  and  Rolls  arid  Love         59 

"Yesterday!  And  you  are  still  cold,  while 
I — I  love  you!  I  repeat  these  words,  they 
please  me.  I  love  you." 

He  drew  the  sugar  basin  towards  him 
and  dropped  three  lumps  of  sugar  into  his 
cup. 

"That  is  not  possible,"  said  Rose,  redden- 
ing. "You  must  not  say  that.  You  intend 
to  say  that  you  like  me  perhaps.  Thank  you. 
It  is  very  pretty  of  you  to  say  such  nice 
things." 

"Like!  What  is  like  in  German?"  de- 
manded Rudolf. 

"How  can  I  explain?  Your  language  is  so 
difficult — impossible  to  translate." 

"Impossible!  It  has  more  reason  than 
yours,"  he  retorted.  "In  three  days  I  could 
learn  your  grammar,  but  the  pronounciation ! 
It  is  without  rule.  You  write  Elephant  and 
pronounce  it  Squirrel."  His  voice  sank  per- 
suasively. "Tell  me,  gnddige  Fraul  What 
is  the  meaning  of  like?  Does  it  mean  more 
than  to  love?" 

"No."  Rose  brought  out  the  monosyllable 
very  distinctly.  Rudolf's  blue  eyes  looked 
very  innocent — too  innocent.  "It  means — 
the  best  word  I  can  give  you  in  German  for  it 
is  gern" 


60          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"That!"  he  exclaimed  contemptuously. 
"Gott!  Then  I  have  no  use  for  that  word 
'like.'  That  is  not  my  meaning.  It  is  not 
enough  strong.  No,  I  mean  love!  And  there 
is  another  word  I  have  also  learnt.  Dearling ! 
That  means  a  great  deal  of  love,  does  it 
not?  Love,  Dearling.  Dearling,  Love."  He 
repeated  the  words  several  times  with  great 
satisfaction. 

"Who  taught  you  English?"  asked  Rose. 

"Oh,  these  words  I  pick  for  myself  since 
yesterday.  I  require  them  at  once.  They 
were  necessary  for  my  conversation.  When 
I  love  a  lady,  I  must  know  how  to  tell  her 
that  I  love  her.  How  does  an  Englishman 
make  love?  How  does  an  Englishman  pro- 
pose to  his  girl?" 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  sprang 
to  his  feet,  and,  drawing  his  sword,  he  held 
the  blade  upright  behind  his  back. 

"So!  Will — you — marry — me?  That  is 
what  he  would  demand  in  a  large  voice.  There 
would  be  no  beginnings  and  endings.  It 
would  be  very  solemn !  And  after  that — I  do 
not  know  what  would  happen.  Does  an 
Englishman  amuse  himself  when  he  is  in  love? 
When  does  the  kissing  begin?"  He  broke  off 
abruptly.  "Sacrament!  But  I  see  the  Eng- 


Coffee  and  Rolls  and  Love         61 

lishman  approaching  who  is  staying  in  this 
hotel.  He  will  doubtless  wish  to  sit  also  at 
this  table." 

"I  am  sure  he  won't.  He  will  sit  by  him- 
self," said  Rose.  "We  are  not  a  sociable 
nation  in  the  early  morning." 

Mr.  Egerton  made  his  way  to  a  vacant  table 
at  the  extreme  end  of  the  verandah.  Marie 
brought  him  his  coffee,  and  also  some  letters 
and  papers  which  had  come  in  by  the  morning 
post.  The  former  he  glanced  over  carelessly, 
and  ripping  off  the  cover  of  the  Times,  propped 
it  up  against  the  coffee-pot  and  disappeared 
behind  its  pages. 

Rudolf  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"Have  you  been  quirrelling  with  the  Mr. 
Englishman?" 

"Quirrelling?  No,  I  have  not  been  quarrel- 
ling. What  makes  you  think  so  ?  " 

"Because  he  sit  so  far  away.  That  is 
incomprehensible  to  me.  If  I  were  to  find  a 
lady  so  charming  of  my  own  country,  I  would 
sit  near  beside  her.  More  near  than  I  now 
sit  with  you."  His  interest  in  Mr.  Egerton 
deepened.  "Is  it  the  custom  for  an  English- 
man to  read  the  journal  so  at  breakfast? 
Would  his  wife  allow  him  to  retire  his  head 
in  such  a  manner  if  she  were  present?" 


62          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"He  would  do  it  without  asking  her," 
answered  Rose,  laughing. 

"Ach,  wie  langweilig!  I  perceive  now 
why  the  English  journals  are  of  such  a  large 
size. ' '  He  put  his  head  on  one  side  and  looked 
at  Mr.  Egerton  critically.  "This  Englishman 
now?  Do  you  find  him  a  pretty  man?  I  see 
that  he  wears  a  moustache,  but  he  does  not 
wear  cotolettes.  Is  it  not  the  fashion  in  Eng- 
land to  wear  cotolettes?  " 

"Cutlets?"  repeated  Rose  blankly. 

Rudolf  passed  his  hand  over  his  neatly- 
trimmed  side-whiskers. 

"These  are  cotolettes,'1  he  said.  "Your 
officers  do  not  wear  them.  No?  You  do  not 
like  them?  Oh  yes,  I  observe  quickly.  I 
perceive  that  you  do  not  like  them." 

He  was  lost  in  thought  for  a  few  seconds, 
then  he  sighed. 

"You  answer  nothing,  therefore  I  know  of 
a  certainty  you  do  not  like  my  cotolettes.'1 

Rose  was  crumbling  down  a  piece  of 
roll,  and  feeding  the  sparrows  who  were 
hopping  about  on  the  flagged  stones  close 
by. 

"It  is  only  a  fashion,"  she  said  evasively. 

But  he  demanded  a  more  explicit  answer. 
Did  she,  or  did  she  not  like  his  cotolettes? 


Coffee  and  Rolls  and  Love         63 

She  declined  to  be  drawn  into  a  discussion. 
It  was  a  matter  of  fashion. 

"And  I  have  not  time  to  argue  about  it," 
she  added,  "because  I  have  finished  my  break- 
fast, and  I  must  go  away  now." 

"Go  away!"  Rudolf  jumped  to  his  feet. 
"  Why  do  you  go  away?  I  find  it  very  agree- 
able to  talk  to  you." 

"I  always  take  my  little  boy  for  a  walk  now, 
before  it  gets  too  hot." 

Rudolf  bowed. 

"With  your  permission  I  accompany  you." 

As  he  had  taken  the  permission  for  granted, 
she  could  not  say  anything.  They  passed 
down  the  steps  of  the  verandah,  and  dis- 
appeared amongst  the  luxuriant  foliage  of  the 
garden. 

Mr.  Egerton  was  apparently  engrossed  in 
the  pages  of  his  newspaper,  but  he  saw  them 
go.  A  movement  of  his  hand  upset  the  bal- 
ance of  the  Times,  and  it  fell  over  sideways  into 
the  honey. 

He  picked  it  up,  but  the  honey  stuck  to 
his  fingers.  He  was  tearing  off  the  smeared 
edges,  when  he  heard  his  name  called,  and 
looked  round. 

"Charles!"  he  murmured.  "What's  he 
doing?" 


64         With  the  Merry  Austrians 

A  wooden  corridor,  partly  covered  in  with 
glass  and  from  which  the  Wasser  Kur  baths 
opened,  ran  along  one  side  of  the  Schloss  at 
right  angles  with  the  verandah,  and  from  one 
of  the  open  windows  a  face  peered  anxiously. 

Mr.  Ridley  was  trying  to  make  his  voice 
sound  as  unobtrusive  as  possible. 

' '  Myles ! ' '  he  called  cautiously.  ' '  I  want  the 
German  dictionary .  Do  you  know  where  it  is  ?  " 

"The  German  dictionary?  What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  the  German  dictionary  in 
your  bath?" 

"I  want  to- " 

The  voice  ceased  abruptly,  and  the  head 
vanished.  There  was  the  sound  of  a  heavy 
footfall,  and  the  swish  of  a  woman's  skirts. 
Frau  Wolff,  in  a  morning  neglige,  which 
floated  out  from  the  bountiful  curves  of  her 
figure  like  the  full  sails  of  a  ship,  was  seen 
approaching.  She  carried  a  bath-towel  in 
her  hand,  with  which  she  was  making  signs 
towards  the  window  where  Mr.  Ridley's  head 
had  protruded  the  instant  before. 

"  I  komm,  I  komm.  I  also  am  about  to  take 
ze  bass.  I  speaks  Ingleesh,"  she  cried  as  she 
drew  nearer. 

Myles  gulped  down  the  last  of  his  coffee, 
and,  seizing  his  letters,  fled. 


Coffee  and  Rolls  and  Love         65 

Charles  had  bolted  back  like  a  rabbit  into 
its  burrow,  but  the  corridor  was  practically  an 
impasse  terminating  with  the  last  bathroom. 
He  rattled  the  handle.  The  door  was  locked. 
An  angry  voice  stormed  gutturally  from 
within. 

Frau  Wolff  had  entered  the  corridor,  and 
was  gaining  on  him.  The  solid  tread  of  her 
sandal -bound  feet  sounded  every  moment 
growing  nearer,  and  with  nervous  fingers  he 
buttoned  up  the  collar  of  his  coat  to  disguise 
the  fact  that  he  was  shirtless. 

Such  modest  panderings  to  the  proprieties 
were  entirely  thrown  away  upon  his  pursuer. 
In  a  Wasser  Kur  establishment  such  as 
Schloss  Waldhof  any  dress  was  permissible 
during  the  morning  hours,  and  Frau  Wolff's 
own  costume  was  of  the  airiest. 

She  smiled  encouragement  as  she  came  to 
a  standstill  in  front  of  him  and  Charles  plucked 
up  courage.  Surely  he  might  feel  safe  with 
any  one  so  fat  and  ugly,  and  she  spoke  English. 

Her  smile  broadened. 

"You  wish  for  to  take  ze  bass?"  she  said. 
"It  vill  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  help  you 
to  take  ze  bass.  Ingleesh  people  is  very  fond 
of  bassings  and  of  all  kind  of  cleanliness." 

Charles  felt  that  he  was  blushing.     Did  she 


66          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

mean  to  infer  that  they  were  to  bathe  together? 
But  the  joy  of  finding  some  one  who  could 
speak  his  own  language  overcame  his  shy- 
ness. He  could  at  any  rate  tell  her  of  his 
difficulties. 

"I  have  been  trying  to  explain  about  the 
temperature  of  my  bath,"  he  said.  "It  is 
very  awkward,  because  the  person  who  looks 
after  the  baths  is  a  woman.  I  can't  get  her  to 
understand  that  I  don't  want  her.  She  won't 
leave  me  alone.  She  follows  me  about  with  a 
thermometer." 

Frau  Wolff  nodded  energetically,  until  the 
top  knot  of  hair  over  her  forehead  almost  fell 
into  her  eyes. 

"But  yes,  of  course,  it  is  a  woman  who  gives 
ze  bass.  She  is  a  very  goot  woman  for  ze 
bass." 

"But  will  you  kindly  explain  to  her  that  I 
don't  wish  her  to  bath  me?"  said  Charles. 
"And  that  I  like  the  water  hot.  I  turned 
it  on  myself,  but  she  turned  it  off  again. 
She  's  in  my  bathroom  now  with  her  ther- 
mometer, and  I  can't  get  her  out." 

"Ja,  jar  exclaimed  Frau  Wolff.  "But 
I  vill  assist  you  vis  pleasure,"  and  followed 
by  Charles  she  swept  along  the  corridor  to 
where  one  of  the  doors  stood  ajar.  Sounds 


Coffee  and  Rolls  and  Love         67 

like  those  of  an  angry  hen  scratching  about 
in  its  desecrated  nest  were  heard  from  within. 

Frau  Wolff  called  out  something  in  German, 
and  a  yellow-faced  woman  with  oily  curls 
bobbing  against  her  cheek-bones  thrust  her 
head  through  the  opening  of  the  door.  She 
held  a  large  thermometer  in  one  hand  and  a 
massage  brush  in  the  other,  with  which  she 
gesticulated  violently. 

Charles  stood  nervously  in  the  background, 
straining  his  ears  to  understand  what  she  was 
saying.  The  only  word  he  could  make  any 
attempt  to  repeat  was  "  Gefahrlich." 

He  touched  Frau  Wolff  on  the  arm. 

"  Gefdhrlich,"  he  whispered  anxiously. 
"What  does  that  mean?  She  's  kept  on  say- 
ing it  over  and  over  again.  She  shakes  the 
thermometer  in  my  face  and  says,  'Gefdhr- 
lich."1 

Frau  Wolff  threw  out  her  hands  and  rolled 
up  her  eyes  despairingly. 

"Ach,  I  know,  but  ze  Ingleesh  of  it  I  do 
not  translate."  Then  with  a  cry  of  delight 
she  clasped  the  pocket  of  her  peignoir  and 
drew  out  a  small  red  book.  "Am  I  not 
stoopid?  Am  I  not  a  sheep?  "  she  murmured, 
turning  over  its  pages.  "Breaking  my  head 
to  remember,  ven  all  zese  times  I  haf  ze 


68          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

dictionary  vis  vich  I  vas  translating  ze  con- 
versation of  ze  Herr  Baron  and  ze  Ingleesh 
Frau.  So.  So." 

She  ran  her  stumpy  forefinger  up  and  down 
the  pages  marked  G.,  and  turning  to  Charles 
thrust  the  book  under  his  nose. 

1 '  Gefdhrlich — Dangerous ! ' ' 

"Ja,ja!"  screamed  the  bath-woman.  She 
plunged  the  thermometer  into  the  bath,  and 
with  the  water  dripping  from  it  shook  it  in 
Charles's  face. 

"Dangerous!  Rubbish !"  he  exclaimed.  He 
turned  on  the  water  and  held  his  finger  under 
the  tap.  "  It  is  n't  even  tepid." 

"Gefdhrlich!"  shrieked  the  bath-woman, 
and  she  rushed  forward  to  turn  the  water  off 
again. 

Charles's  meekness  vanished.  He  knew 
now  what  she  was  talking  about.  He  was  not 
going  to  be  bullied  by  any  woman  into  having 
a  tepid  bath  when  he  wanted  a  hot  one. 

He  took  her  by  the  shoulders  in  his  excite- 
ment. 

"I  don't  care  whether  it 's  dangerous  or 
not,"  he  cried.  "Go  away!"  and  he  pushed 
her  out. 

With  a  dexterous  twist  of  her  arm  she 
snatched  the  key  out  of  the  door  in  passing 


Coffee  and  Rolls  and  Love         69 

and  slammed  it  in  his  face.  Then  she  locked 
him  in  from  the  outside. 

She  shook  her  fist,  and  fetching  a  chair 
planted  it  against  the  door  and  sat  down. 

11  Gefahrlich  I "  she  kept  muttering.  "Ge- 
fdhrlich!" 

Frau  Wolff  raised  her  voice  reassuringly 
through  the  key-hole. 

"Haf  no  fears  in  ze  bass,  my  frient.  Zis 
womans  I  vill  make  depart  in  a  few  times. 
I  sends  her  avay.  I  guards  you  my  own  self. 
Haf  no  fears — no  fears  at  all." 

Mr.  Ridley  was  allowed  to  have  his  bath  in 
peace,  but  he  had  only  exchanged  one  evil  for 
another.  He  might  have  been  able  to  escape 
from  the  bath- woman,  but  there  was  no 
escaping  from  Frau  Wolff.  An  hour  later 
Mr.  Egerton  saw  him  sitting  under  a  tree 
with  her  in  the  garden. 

"She'll  pick  his  brains  like  a  hawk,"  he 
thought  uneasily.  "I  hoped  he  was  safe 
when  he  said  he  was  going  to  give  up 
society." 

He  had  half  a  mind  to  nip  this  undesirable 
friendship  in  the  bud,  but  a  second  glance  at 
Frau  Wolff  decided  him.  It  was  safer  to  keep 
out  of  her  reach. 

Frau  Wolff  never  lost  time  in  preliminary 


70          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

skirmishings.  She  began  to  question  Mr. 
Ridley  at  once. 

"Are  you  married?"  she  asked.  "You  do 
not  vear  ze  ring.  But  Englishmens  do  not 
vear  ze  ring." 

Charles  bridled.  He  had  never  been  spoken 
to  so  pointedly  on  the  subject  of  matrimony 
before. 

"No,"  he  admitted.  "No— I  am  not 
married." 

Frau  Wolff's  beady  black  eyes  scanned  him 
critically. 

"Vy  is  you  not  married?  Is  it  becos  you 
haf  been  a  bad  boy  zat  no  ones  vill  marry 
you?" 

Charles  edged  away  from  her.  Foreign 
females  were  certainly  embarrassing.  First 
the  bath- woman,  and  now  this  one  was  asking 
him  questions  he  did  n't  know  how  to  answer. 

He  was  beginning  a  stammering  explana- 
tion, but  she  cut  him  short. 

1 '  Your  f rient  ?     He  also  is  not  married  ? ' ' 

"No,"  said  Charles,  rather  huffily.  His 
own  affairs  were  dismissed  just  as  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  what  to  say. 

Frau  Wolff  had  reasons  of  her  own  for 
being  more  interested  in  his  friend  than  in 
himself. 


Coffee  and  Rolls  and  Love         71 

"Nor  is  he — Achl  vat  is  ze  vord  I  require? 
• — verlobt.  Betrothed !  Zat  is  ze  vord.  Is  he 
betrothed  ?  He  look  not  rich . ' ' 

"To  my  knowledge  he  is  not  betrothed. 
And  he  is  not  a  poor  man.  My  friend  has 
a  large  fortune — a  very  large  fortune  indeed," 
said  Charles,  who  disliked  misunderstandings. 

Frau  Wolff  leant  forward  eagerly. 

"You  know  about  his  moneys?  You  are 
assured  zat  he  is  rich?  " 

' '  Certainly  I  know.  I  am  an  intimate  friend 
of  the  family." 

Frau  Wolff  smiled  to  herself. 

"Ze  young  Baronin  Seybell  knows  of  zese 
moneys.  Ach  mein  Gott,  but  she  is  clever,  ze 
young  Baronin. ' '  She  continued : ' '  He  address 
himself  by  ze  names  of  two  peoples.  I  observe 
his  letters  in  ze  bureau.  Ze  first  of  zese  names 
is  ze  name  of  ze  English  Frau  who  lives 
in  zis  hotel." 

Charles  nearly  jumped  off  his  chair. 

"Dear,  dear!"  he  exclaimed  hurriedly. 
''You  don't  say  so?  What  a  strange  coinci- 
dence— very  strange  indeed." 

"Speak  not  so  fast,"  said  Frau  Wolff  per- 
emptorily. "And  inform  me  vy  your  frient 
address  himself  in  such  a  manner." 

Charles  moved  uneasily.     The  uncomfor- 


72          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

table  remembrance  that  he  had  been  warned 
against  discussing  his  friend's  affairs  recurred 
to  him. 

"Oh  well,  you  see,"  he  began  lamely, 
"some  people  are  always  lucky.  They  get 
fortunes  left  them,  and — come  into  estates. 
They  seem  to  be  born  with  a  golden  spoon  in 
their  mouths." 

Frau  Wolff  regarded  him  suspiciously.  She 
shook  her  head. 

"I  onderstand  not  such  golden  spoons.  I 
ask  you  vy  he  address  himself  by  ze  name  of 
ze  English  Frau?" 

Mr.  Ridley  looked  round  despairingly.  He 
wished  he  had  the  courage  to  run  away. 

"It  was  a  family  matter,"  he  stammered. 
1 '  Quite  a  usual  thing  to  do  under  the  circum- 
stances .  His  mother ' ' 

"Ah!  So,  so.  I  onderstand.  But  yes,  I 
onderstand.  Zere  vos  a — ahem  a  scandal, 
nicht  wahr?  You  haf  such  sings  in  England? 
Shockeeng!  Shockeeng!"  She  leant  nearer 
him  and  shook  her  finger  in  his  face.  ' '  Shock- 
eeng !  Shockeeng ! ' '  she  repeated. 

1 '  Not  at  all !  Not  at  all ! "  exclaimed  Charles , 
retreating  as  she  advanced.  "I  assure  you 
there  was  nothing — nothing  of  what  you  seem 
to  imagine.  You  misunderstand  me  entirely. 


Coffee  and  Rolls  and  Love         73 

Mr.  Egerton  has  always  been  a  rich  man.  His 
father  was  a  rich  man.  His  grandfather  was 
a  rich  man.  He  only  inherited  this  property 
of  his  mother's  recently.  And  it  is  quite  a 
usual  thing  to  have  to  adopt  a  family  name 
on  such  occasions.  I  assure  you  there  was 
nothing — nothing  shocking  about  it  at  all." 

His  staccato  voice  rose  several  tones  higher 
with  excitement.  He  took  out  his  pocket- 
handkerchief  and  mopped  his  forehead.  He 
was  feeling  very  hot  and  uncomfortable. 

"I  really  had  to  explain,"  he  murmured. 
"I  could  not  allow  such  a  misapprehension  to 
remain  in  her  mind." 

Frau  Wolff  leant  back  in  her  seat  and  folded 
her  hands.  What  a  lot  of  interesting  things 
she  had  found  out.  She  ruminated  over  them 
pleasantly.  She  half  shut  her  eyes  and  looked 
as  if  she  had  gone  to  sleep.  She  was  so  quiet 
that  Mr.  Ridley  thought  she  had.  He  was 
sidling  away  from  her  with  the  idea  of  escaping 
unobserved  when  she  woke  up  again. 

"I  thought  of  going  for  a  walk,"  he  said 
hurriedly,  and  took  out  his  watch.  ' '  The  Cure 
insists  upon  a  sharp  walk  in  the  morning 
and  twenty  minutes  rest  before  the  mid-day 
meal." 

"  Ach,  ze  Kur,  ze  Kur,"  sighed  Frau  Wolff. 


74          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"I  also  make  ze  walk  every  day,  so  as  to 
become  more  meagre,  but  I  go  not  to-day. 
I  remain  to  sink."  She  tapped  her  forehead 
significantly.  "I  sink  of  all  ze  sings  you  haf 
tell  me." 

Qualms  of  conscience  accompanied  Charles 
on  his  constitutional.  He  tried  to  hearten 
himself  with  the  consolation  that  Myles  and 
Frau  Wolff  were  not  acquainted. 

"But  she  '11  find  a  way  of  getting  to  know 
him  if  she  wants  to,"  he  thought  uneasily,  and 
the  reflection  was  not  comforting. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  SACRIFICE  AT  THE  FRISEUR/S 

O  UDOLF  was  hardly  out  of  earshot  of  the 
*•  ^  verandah  before  he  surprised  Rose  by 
changing  his  mind  about  going  for  a  walk. 

He  had  remembered  an  important  engage- 
ment, he  told  her  gravely,  and  tried  to  extract 
a  promise  that  he  would  find  her  in  the  garden 
on  his  return. 

But  she  would  give  no  promise;  and  he 
departed,  vowing  that  she  could  not  possibly 
hide  from  him  and  that  he  would  search  in 
every  direction  until  he  found  her. 

After  he  had  gone,  she  spent  an  unprofitable 
quarter  of  an  hour  hunting  for  Benjie  and 
Leopoldina.  They  could  not  be  found  any- 
where. Then  it  occurred  to  her  that  they 
might  have  gone  to  the  dairy,  and  she  turned 
her  steps  in  that  direction. 

The  dairy  was  a  source  of  great  interest 
to  Benjie.  He  was  sometimes  allowed  to  turn 

75 


76         With  the  Merry  Austrians 

the  handle  of  the  butter  machine  and  to  dabble 
his  fingers  in  the  big  wooden  trough  which 
stood  outside  the  door  where  the  Zimmer 
Madchens  scoured  their  churns  and  washed 
their  yellow  milk  dishes. 

The  Zimmer  Madchens  made  a  picturesque 
group  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  pattering 
in  and  out  of  the  dairy  with  their  bare  feet: 
bright  coloured  handkerchiefs  were  knotted 
over  their  thickly  braided  hair,  and  the  full 
sleeves  of  their  white  bodices  were  drawn  up 
from  their  sun-browned  arms. 

They  were  very  busy,  but  when  they  saw 
the  English  lady  one  of  them  volunteered 
the  information  that  Leopoldina  had  gone  to 
fetch  a  glass  of  milk  for  the  Kindchen,  and  that 
the  Kindchen  was  playing  on  the  grass  round 
the  corner  of  the  house. 

Following  the  direction  to  which  she  pointed, 
Rose  heard  the  sound  of  children's  voices,  and 
was  just  in  time  to  catch  sight  of  a  boy  with 
very  fat  legs  disappearing  in  the  distance,  and 
to  see  her  son  collapse  on  to  the  ground  in  a 
state  of  exhaustion.  Clasped  in  his  arms  was 
a  puppy  of  a  few  weeks  old. 

She  knelt  down  beside  him  on  the  grass. 

"How  hot  you  are,"  she  said  reproachfully 
"What  have  you  been  doing?" 


The  Sacrifice  at  the  Friseur's       77 

A  flushed  little  face  looked  up  at  her. 

"I  Ve  been  fightin'  wis  Franz." 

"So  I  thought." 

Rose  looked  after  the  disappearing  figure. 
Franz  was  the  son  of  the  Frau  Hauptman, 
one  of  the  officers'  wives. 

"But  I  don't  like  you  to  fight,  and  Franz 
would  not  fight  unless  you  made  him.  He  's 
too  big  for  you  to  fight  with." 

Benjie's  cheeks  flushed  still  hotter. 

"But  I  haven't  been  knocked  down, 
muwer.  I  'm  only — only  takin*  a  rest,"  he 
explained,  with  a  little  pant  of  anxiety  between 
each  breath. 

Rose  smiled.  She  picked  up  his  hat  which 
was  lying  on  the  grass  and  put  it  on  his 
head. 

"Yes,  I  saw  you  as  I  came  round  the  corner. 
But  what  were  you  fighting  about?" 

"Franz  pinched  the  puppy,"  exclaimed 
Benjie.  "He  kept  on  pinchin',  pinchin', 
pinchin'.  An'  he 's  the  dearest,  darlin'st 
puppy.  May  n't  I  has  it  to  sleep  wis  me, 
muwer,  'stead  os  Curly  Kate?  When  I  hug 
it  tight  it  squeaks,  'cos  it  loves  me  so." 

"I  think  it's  squeaking  because  you're 
hugging  it  too  tight.  And  look !  It  's  hungry. 
It 's  trying  to  eat  my  gloves.  Suppose  we 


78          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

give  it  to  Leopoldina  to  take  back  to  the 
farm?  Here  she  comes  with  the  milk." 

He  reluctantly  allowed  the  puppy  to  be 
taken  from  him,  and  to  console  him  for  its 
loss,  he  was  given  a  letter  of  his  mother's  and 
told  he  might  come  to  the  post-office  with  her 
and  put  it  into  the  box  himself. 

The  village  of  Waldhof  boasted  of  only  one 
shop,  which  served  a  variety  of  purposes.  On 
one  side  of  the  door  was  the  post-office  and 
general  store;  on  the  other,  was  a  small  com- 
partment where  the  Friseur  carried  on  his 
business.  It  was  a  very  profitable  business. 
With  so  many  soldiers  in  the  camp  he  was 
kept  well  employed. 

The  flimsiest  rag  of  a  curtain  draped  the 
division  between  the  two  departments — and 
after  dropping  the  letter  into  the  box,  and 
seeing  that  his  mother  was  engaged  in  writing 
something  on  a  slip  of  paper  at  the  post- 
master's desk,  Benjie  tiptoed  across  to  where 
hung  the  curtain,  and  peeped  through. 

The  Friseur  caught  sight  of  the  curly  head 
pressed  against  the  muslin  and  called  out 
cheerily : 

1 '  Guten  tag  ?    Guten  tag  ?  " 

He  flourished  his  soapy  razor  in  one  hand 
and  pulled  aside  the  curtain  with  the  other. 


The  Sacrifice  at  the  Friseur's       79 

Benjie  danced  up  and  down  on  the  creaky 
boards,  and  Rose  looked  round  to  see  what  he 
was  doing. 

Through  the  open  door  she  saw  a  white- 
sheeted  figure  sitting  in  front  of  a  shampooing 
basin,  and  reflected  in  the  mirror  overhead 
was  an  upturned  face  lathered  from  chin  to 
brow. 

She  hastily  returned  to  her  writing. 

"Gnadige  Frau!"  cried  a  gay  voice  from  the 
other  side  of  the  curtain. 

Rose  bent  her  head  over  the  desk  and  pre- 
tended not  to  hear. 

It  did  not  shock  Rudolf  in  the  smallest 
degree  to  find  that  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance 
saw  him  being  shaved,  and  although  he  re- 
ceived no  answer,  he  continued  to  make 
remarks  through  the  curtain. 

When  the  Friseur  had  finished,  he  threw 
back  the  white  sheet  in  which  he  had  been 
wrapped,  and  picking  up  a  brush  carefully 
dusted  the  collar  of  his  tunic.  He  leant  for- 
ward and  looked  at  himself  critically  in  the 
mirror  above  the  shampooing  basin. 

"Goot,"  he  said,  nodding. 

He  gave  the  Friseur  twenty  hellers  more 
than  his  charge;  and  the  next  minute  was 
standing  beside  the  desk  in  the  post-office. 


80         With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Rose  was  counting  over  some  change.  She 
put  the  money  into  her  purse  before  turning 
round.  She  looked  at  him,  and  then  looked 
again. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?  What 
have  you  done  to  yourself?"  she  asked,  in 
a  puzzled  voice. 

Rudolf  was  smiling.  He  appeared  to  be 
very  well  pleased.  He  ran  his  fingers  gently 
down  the  side  of  his  cheek. 

"The  cotolettes  is  gone!  What  you  do  not 
like  is  no  more  for  me."  He  pointed  back- 
wards over  his  shoulder.  "I  leave  them  with 
the  Herr  Friseur." 

"Oh,  but  why  have  you  done  such  a  thing? ' ' 
cried  Rose.  "  I  wish  you  had  n't.  I — I  don't 
like  it.  Your  face  is  so  brown  and  the  shaved 
places  look  dreadful — little  white  patches. 
Oh,  I  wish  you  had  n't  done  it." 

"Himmelf"  exclaimed  Rudolf.  "I  do  this 
thing  for  you.  I  make  myself  English,  and  it 
is  of  no  use.  How  am  I  to  give  pleasure  to 
you?"  He  took  a  step  backwards  and  threw 
out  his  arms  dramatically.  "What  am  I  to 
do  now?" 

"Don't  knock  me  down,"  said  a  quiet  voice 
from  behind. 

Wheeling  round,  Rudolf  found  Mr.  Egerton 


The  Sacrifice  at  the  Friseur's       81 

had  entered  the  shop  unobserved.  Without 
a  moment's  hesitation  he  plunged  into  an 
explanation.  What  he  had  done,  why  he  had 
done  it,  and  the  unsatisfactory  result  of  his 
experiment. 

Rose  watched  Mr.  Egerton's  face  as  he 
listened.  She  was  not  quite  sure  but  that 
under  the  quiet  of  his  manner  he  was  not 
laughing  at  the  impetuosity  of  the  young  Bar- 
on. She  did  not  wish  Rudolf  to  be  laughed  at. 

"You  have  paid  me  a  great  compliment, 
Herr  Baron,"  she  said,  smiling,  and  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  smile  sent  Rudolf's  spirits  up  with 
a  bound. 

"  AM  but  the  sun  shines  again,"  he  cried. 
"I  am  rewarded.  I  please  you?  I  am  more 
English?" 

"No,  you  are  not  a  bit  English.  You  are 
quite,  quite  Austrian.  I  don't  believe  an 
Englishman  would  have  cut  off  his  whiskers 
to  please  me." 

She  called  Benjie,  and  making  a  little  sweep- 
ing bow  which  included  the  Postmaster  and 
the  Friseur  and  Mr.  Egerton,  she  left  the  shop, 
followed  by  Rudolf. 

"A  nasty  one  for  me,"  murmured  Myles 
as  he  laid  a  krone  piece  down  on  the  counter 
and  waited  for  his  stamps. 


82          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Outside  in  the  village  street  Rudolf  took  off 
his  hat  and  walked  in  the  hottest  part  of  the 
road. 

"  I  go  in  the  sun,"  he  said.  "  It  is  necessary 
that  my  face  should  become  of  one  colour." 

"And  get  a  sunstroke,"  remonstrated  Rose. 

"  Pouf!  Not  at  all.  No  strokes  go  through 
my  head.  It  is  too  hard." 

It  was  only  a  few  minutes  walk  from  the 
village  to  the  Schloss.  Under  the  trees,  ex- 
actly where  Charles  Ridley  had  left  her,  sat 
Frau  Wolff.  She  was  like  a  large  black  spider 
waiting  for  its  prey. 

She  saw  the  returning  trio  before  they  saw 
her,  and  heaving  herself  out  of  her  chair  she 
waddled  down  the  path  to  meet  them. 

Rudolf  was  the  first  to  scent  danger.  With 
a  sudden  exclamation  he  caught  up  Benjie  by 
the  arms,  and,  swinging  him  on  to  his  shoulder, 
darted  behind  a  syringa  bush.  He  made 
violent  grimaces  at  the  approaching  figure 
through  the  branches,  and  besought  Rose  in 
a  loud  whisper  to  fly  whilst  there  was  yet  time. 

"That  woman  of  a  Jew,"  he  hissed  through 
his  teeth.  "HimmeU  but  she  is  colossal. 
She  will  devour  us.  If  she  catch  us  we  will 
never  escape.  Fly,  gnddige  Frau!  There  is 
yet  time." 


The  Sacrifice  at  the  Friseur's       83 

"Hush!"  whispered  Rose.  "It's  no  use, 
she  has  seen  me — she  '11  follow.  I  '11  say 
something  to  her  and  then  perhaps  she  '11  go 
back." 

Frau  Wolff  was  bursting  with  importance. 
She  pounced  upon  Rose  hungrily.  Standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  pathway,  with  her  hands 
planted  on  her  huge  hips  and  her  beady  eyes 
starting  out  of  her  head  like  black  boot  but- 
tons, she  burst  into  an  excited  resume  of  the 
conversation  she  had  had  with  Mr.  Ridley. 

Rose  tapped  the  ground  impatiently  with 
the  point  of  her  parasol.  Frau  Wolff  spoke 
so  incoherently  she  could  only  half  understand 
what  she  was  talking  about.  It  was  some- 
thing connected  with  Mr.  Egerton,  she  gath- 
ered that  much,  but  why  Frau  Wolff  was  so 
excited  and  why  the  subject  was  supposed  to 
interest  her  she  could  not  understand.  She 
wished  she  had  taken  Rudolf's  advice  and  fled. 
Frau  Wolff  kept  her  trump-card  to  the  last. 
She  drew  from  her  pocket  a  piece  of  paper  on 
which  she  had  laboriously  written  down  Mr. 
Egerton's  full  name,  copied  from  the  register 
in  the  hotel  bureau. 

"Ze  name  of  ze  English  Herr,"  she  an- 
nounced, flourishing  it  triumphantly. 

The  word   "Trevor"  caught  Rose's  eyes. 


84          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

There  was  some  association  between  her  name 
and  Mr.  Eger ton's,  and  Frau  Wolff  was  de- 
manding an  explanation. 

She  did  not  receive  one. 

"I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  Rose,  and 
taking  advantage  of  an  opportune  moment 
she  slipped  past.  She  gave  no  time  for  pur- 
suit, but  walked  on  quickly  into  the  Schloss. 
On  the  hall  table  the  Visitors'  Book  lay  open. 
The  last  entry  stared  her  in  the  face : 

M.  TREVOR  EGERTON.  )  ENGLAND_ 
C.  E.  RIDLEY.  ) 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MYLES  EGERTON  OFFERS  REPARATION 

A  PICNIC?    And  you  want  me  to  come? 
How  nice  of  you!" 

Rose  was  leaning  over  the  balcony  answer- 
ing a  question  which  had  been  called  up  to 
her  from  the  garden  below.  Looking  down 
into  Ilka  Rentier's  upturned  face  she  saw  her 
put  her  finger  to  her  lips.  She  understood. 
It  was  not  advisable  to  raise  one's  voice  in  the 
vicinity  of  Frau  Wolff's  hearing. 

"I  will  come  down  and  talk  to  you,"    she 
called  softly. 

Ilka  was  waiting  for  her. 

"I  had  almost  forgot  that  Monster  of 
Curiosity,"  she  said.  "Before  long  she  will 
provide  herself  with  a  telescope  and  an  Ap- 
parat  for  listening  through  closed  doors.  I 
do  not  wish  all  the  Gesellschaft  of  the  hotel  to 
come  to  this  picnic.  Therefore,  I  do  not 
speak  of  it  very  loud.  Vilma  will  come.  She 

85 


86          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

is  a  cat,  but  some  of  the  officers  they  find  her 
agreeable,  so  I  must  invite  her.  You  will  be 
charmed  with  the  place  to  which  we  go.  It 
is  high  up  in  the  Schulterthal.  There  is  a 
restaurant  where  they  give  you  all  manner  of 
eatings  of  the  country.  It  is  most  picturesque 
and  beautiful  You  walk  well?  The  road  is 
wild  in  some  places." 

Rose  glanced  at  Ilka's  little  French  shoes 
and  high  heels. 

"I  think  I  could  manage  the  walking,"  she 
said.  "When  do  we  start?" 

"In  one  hour  from  now:  we  will  meet  at  my 
lodgment.  I  have  also  asked  the  English- 
man, Mr.  Egerton.  My  husband  and  Rudolf 
are  just  now  at  the — what  you  call  it? — shoot- 
ing exercises  of  the  soldiers,  but  they  meet 
with  us  at  the  restaurant.  I  go!  Do  not  be 
late.  The  wife  of  the  Herr  Hauptman  also 
accompanies  us,  and  she  is  always  in  great 
haste  when  she  climbs  a  mountain.  She  has 
the  legs  of  an  ostrich." 

In  spite  of  the  warning  to  be  punctual,  at 
twenty  minutes  past  the  time  arranged  for 
starting  Rose  had  not  made  her  appearance 
at  the  Rentier's  quarters. 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  whispered  the  Grafin 
to  Mr.  Egerton.  "You  perceive  that  the  wife 


Myles  Egerton  Offers  Reparation    87 

of  the  Herr  Hauptman  is  most  anxious  to 
start?" 

The  lady  who  was  credited  with  having  the 
legs  of  an  ostrich  was  showing  visible  signs  of 
impatience.  She  carried  a  large  stick,  and 
her  skirts  were  fastened  up  very  high  with 
many  loops  and  buttons. 

"Would  you  like  me  to  wait  for  Mrs.  Trevor 
and  bring  her  on?"  suggested  Myles.  "I 
know  the  way  to  the  place.  I  was  up  there 
yesterday." 

Ilka's  eyes  danced,  and  she  laughed  up  in 
his  face.  Vilma  was  standing  near  and  heard 
what  he  said. 

"Excellent!"  and  turning  to  her  guests  she 
said:  "The  English  lady  has  doubtless  been 
detained.  The  Herr  Egerton  waits  to  ac- 
company her,"  and  she  marshalled  her  party 
into  walking  line. 

Myles  went  back  to  the  Schloss,  but  he 
could  see  no  sign  of  Rose  anywhere.  She 
would  be  obliged  to  pass  through  the  hall  on 
her  way  out  of  the  house,  so  he  sat  down  to 
wait  for  her.  The  Visitors'  Book  lay  on  the 
table  beside  him,  and  he  began  idly  to  turn 
over  the  leaves. 

He  was  not  giving  much  thought  to  what  he 
was  doing,  when  he  heard  a  voice  at  his  elbow. 


88          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

He  found  he  was  being  addressed  by  Frau 
Wolff. 

"You  make  a  seek  in  ze  book?  I  also  haf 
make  seeks  in  zis  book." 

Myles  rose  at  once  and  made  way  for 
her. 

"I  am  not  using  the  book,"  he  said. 

Frau  Wolff  took  a  step  to  one  side  and 
baulked  his  intention  of  getting  away. 

"Is  it  ze  name  of  ze  Ingleesh  Frau  vich  you 
seek  in  ze  book?  " 

Myles  met  her  inquisitive  gaze  stolidly. 

"I  was  not  looking  for  any  one's  name,"  he 
said,  and  again  tried  to  move  away. 

Frau  Wolff  fired  a  point-blank  question  at 
him: 

"Ze  Ingleesh  Frau  is  parents  wis  you,  nicM 
wahr?" 

All  family  connections,  according  to  her 
understanding  of  English,  came  under  the 
class  of  parents.  It  was  a  word  that  she  prided 
herself  upon  being  able  to  translate. 

Myles's  face  remained  expressionless.  He 
did  not  attempt  to  answer. 

A  gleam  came  into  her  little  black  eyes. 

"You  say  nodding.  I  also  speak  of  zese 
sings  to  ze  English  Frau  and  she  say  nodding. 
But  ze  names  are  in  zis  book." 


Myles  Egerton  Offers  Reparation    89 

Myles  was  inwardly  very  angry.  She  was 
a  meddlesome,  impertinent  woman. 

Frau  Wolff  tapped  the  book  impatiently. 

"I  vill  show  you  zat  it  is  true,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "I  vill  find  ze  names." 

A  footfall  sounded  on  the  stairs.  He  turned 
to  see  Rose  hesitating  on  the  lowest  step. 
She  was  looking  at  him  in  surprise. 

Frau  Wolff  was  bending  over  the  book.  He 
passed  noiselessly  behind  her  back  and  crossed 
the  hall. 

"Let  us  escape,"  he  said. 

Rose  walked  on  towards  the  open  door, 
and  he  followed.  The  courtyard  was  deserted, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  they  had  gained  the 
shelter  of  the  woods. 

Myles  looked  back  at  the  Schloss. 

"It's  not  worth  while  being  angry,"  he 
said,  "but  what  a  detestable  woman!" 

"Yes,"  answered  Rose. 

He  glanced  at  her  quickly.  She  looked 
flushed  and  as  though  something  had  hap- 
pened to  disturb  her.  The  disquieting  idea 
occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  she  was  annoyed 
at  his  having  thrust  his  society  upon  her. 
He  explained  the  circumstances. 

"Thank  you  for  waiting,"  she  said.  "I 
was  sorry  to  be  late,  but — I  could  not  help  it." 


90          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

He  was  still  doubtful  as  to  whether  she  was 
annoyed  with  him  or  not. 

The  morning  was  close  and  sultry,  and 
under  the  thick  canopy  of  the  pines  the  light 
was  soft  and  dim  as  twilight.  They  had  now 
struck  into  the  footpath  which  led  up  the  steep 
banks  of  the  Schulterthal,  and  it  gradually 
grew  steeper  as  it  twisted  and  turned  between 
the  bare,  straight  stems  of  the  trees.  On 
the  one  side  the  ground  rose  precipitously, 
on  the  other  it  fell  sheer  down  to  the  banks  of 
the  mountain  stream  which  roared  and  thun- 
dered over  its  rocky  bed,  dashing  up  volumes 
of  spray  as  it  rushed  along. 

They  climbed  for  some  time  in  silence.  On 
a  small  promontory  which  jutted  out  from  the 
bank  Myles  paused,  and  stepping  closer  to 
the  edge,  looked  over. 

"You  ought  to  come  here,  Mrs.  Trevor? 
There 's  a  waterfall  that 's  quite  worth  seeing." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  'm  afraid  I  can't.  I  can't  look  over  a 
precipice." 

He  took  a  step  nearer. 

"Oh  don't!"  she  exclaimed.  "Do  you 
know  the  ground  under  your  feet  is  quite 
hollow?" 

He  came  back  to  her  side. 


Myles  Egerton  Offers  Reparation    91 

"They  must  often  have  landslips  here,"  he 
remarked.  "There  's  the  track  of  one  on  the 
other  side.  Do  you  see  where  the  line  of  it 
runs  down  into  the  gorge?" 

They  continued  their  way.  Rose  was  very 
silent,  and  Myles  felt  quite  sure  that  she  was 
annoyed. 

The  path  still  led  upwards,  then  it  began  to 
descend.  It  wandered  on  rather  aimlessly 
for  a  little  while  and  seemed  to  break  off 
abruptly. 

"We  have  surely  taken  a  wrong  turning," 
said  Rose.  They  were  walking  in  single  file, 
and  she  was  in  advance.  "The  path  stops 
here.  Look!  on  ahead  there  is  nothing." 

"We  have  to  cross  over  to  the  other  side," 
said  Myles. 

"But  I  don't  see  any  bridge." 

"You  will  in  a  minute.  We  can't  see  it 
from  here.  We  have  to  climb  down  to  reach 
it.  Let  me  help  you.  I  '11  go  first  and  give 
you  something  to  hold  on  to." 

She  was  more  dependent  on  the  arm  which 
held  her  up  than  she  was  aware  of.  It  was 
in  some  places  a  case  of  being  almost  bodily 
lifted  from  one  ledge  of  rock  to  another.  She 
was  rather  breathless  before  she  reached  the 
level  ground  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff. 


92          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"And  here  's  the  bridge,"  said  Myles.  "A 
crazy-looking  concern.  I  would  n't  trust  it 
with  a  flood  on." 

They  crossed  over  to  the  other  side,  where 
a  narrow  stretch  of  grass  ran  for  some  dis- 
tance along  the  banks  of  the  stream.  Piles  of 
timber  were  stacked  in  long  lines  close  to  the 
water's  edge,  waiting  to  be  floated  down  to 
the  lower  valleys  by  the  winter  floods. 

"The  next  bit  is  a  pretty  stiff  pull,"  said 
Myles.  ' '  I  think  you  had  better  sit  down  here, 
and  rest  for  a  few  minutes." 

"I  'm  not  tired,"  she  said. 

"Oh — I — thought  you  were,"  he  answered. 
"  Or  else — perhaps  you  're  not  very  keen  about 
the  walk." 

She  looked  a  little  startled. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?" 

There  had  been  an  inflection  in  his  voice 
which  she  did  not  quite  understand.  She 
had  somehow  made  up  her  mind  that  this 
was  a  type  of  man  who  would  be  very  unob- 
servant, and  not  at  all  sympathetic.  She 
wondered  if  she  had  made  a  mistake. 

She  watched  him.  He  was  brushing  some 
broken  bark  off  one  of  the  piles  of  pine  logs. 

"There.  I  think  that  will  make  a  com- 
fortable seat,"  he  said. 


Myles  Egerton  Offers  Reparation    93 

She  sat  down.  She  had  not  intended  to, 
but  it  was  rather  nice  of  him  to  make  a  seat 
for  her.  It  struck  her  how  very  unsociable 
she  had  been,  and  she  felt  that  an  apology  was 
almost  due  to  him. 

"I  am  sorry  my  being  late  kept  you  back." 
Then  she  thought  of  Vilma.  "I  am  afraid 
I  have  been  a  very  dull  companion." 

"I  thought  I  was  boring  you,"  he  answered 
simply. 

A  plant  of  wild  gentians  was  growing  in  the 
moss  at  her  feet.  She  stooped  and  picked 
one  of  the  flowers  and  played  with  it  absently. 

"I — I  was  worried  about  something.  Some- 
thing that  happened  just  before  I  started." 

Then  she  regretted  having  spoken.  It  was 
not  likely  that  he  would  care  whether  she  was 
worried  or  not. 

"I  am  sorry." 

There  was  quite  a  nice  expression  in  his 
eyes,  and  his  voice  sounded  interested.  It 
surprised  her  so  much,  that  she  flushed  a  little 
and  added  hurriedly: 

"It  was  only  a  stupid  thing  which  most 
people  would  have  found  amusing,  but — it 
was  n't  to  me." 

"My  little  friend  again?"  asked  Myles. 

"How  did  you  know?" 


94          vVith  the  Merry  Austrians 

For  the  first  time  since  they  had  started 
on  their  walk  a  smile  crossed  her  face. 

He  was  glad  to  see  the  smile.  She  had  not 
been  bored  with  him  after  all:  she  had  not 
been  thinking  about  him.  There  was  not 
much  perhaps  to  choose  between  indifference 
and  dislike,  but  he  answered  pleasantly: 

"I  expect  he  takes  a  lot  of  running  after." 

Rose  twisted  the  gentian  round  in  her 
fingers. 

"He  's  not  really  a  naughty  child,"  she  said 
slowly. 

"But  full  of  animal  spirits?" 

"Yes.  And  so  excitable — just  like  a  little 
whirlwind.  He  loves  making  a  noise." 

"Isn't  that  a  healthy  sign?  I  should  let 
him  take  it  out  that  way." 

Rose  raised  her  hands  and  let  them  fall 
again  with  a  little  gesture  of  despair. 

"But  I  cannot.  This  kind  of  hotel  life  is 
ruination  to  a  child.  You  cannot  allow  him 
to  get  rid  of  his  superfluous  vitality  in  the  way 
that  a  child  ought  to  do.  One  has  to  think 
of  other  people." 

"Oh,  I  shouldn't  worry  about  that;  wait 
until  they  complain." 

"But  they  have.  I  mean  that's  what 
happened  this  morning." 


Myles  Egerton  Offers  Reparation    95 

He  glanced  at  her.  Her  face  had  clouded 
over  again. 

"Did  the  little  chap  do  anything  very 
terrible?"  he  asked. 

She  had  not  intended  to  be  drawn  into  ex- 
planation. She  wondered  afterwards  how  it 
came  about  that  he  had  made  her  talk  to  him 
about  herself. 

"Perhaps  it  was  my  fault.  I  ought  to  have 
more  authority.  He  was  in  one  of  his  wildest 
moods,  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and 
dancing  about  all  over  the  place.  How  can 
you  punish  a  little  thing  for  being  happy? 
Its  body  is  so  full  of  life  it  can't  keep  it  in. 
There  was  so  much  noise  that  I  did  not  hear 
the  door  open.  I  looked  round  to  find  the 
lady  from  the  room  below  standing  close  beside 
me.  She  was  so  angry  she  could  hardly  speak, 
and,  of  course,  I  knew  why.  I  apologised. 
I  said  I  was  sorry.  I  scolded  Benjie,  but  she 
was  so  busy  talking  she  had  no  time  to  listen. 
She  had  a  beautiful  blue  parasol  in  her  hand  and 
she  waved  it  in  my  face  and  threatened  all  man- 
ner of  things.  Then  she  dropped  the  parasol, 
and  I  never  noticed  Benjie  pick  it  up  until  I 
heard  the  click  of  the  catch  as  he  opened  it." 

Myles  murmured  something  which  she  did 
not  hear. 


96          With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"He  ran  out  on  to  the  balcony,  and  the 
parasol  caught  in  the  door-way  and  turned 
outside  in.  There  was  a  dreadful  sound  of 
snapping  wires.  I  'm  sure  all  the  spokes  were 
broken.  It  sounds  as  if  it  ought  to  be  funny, 
but  it  was  n't.  She  went  to  the  bureau  and 
complained — and — the  hotel  proprietor  was  n't 
very  nice  about  it." 

' '  I  would  n't  worry, ' '  said  Myles.  ' '  You  '11 
find  it  '11  blow  over.  She  's  made  a  fuss,  and 
now  she  '11  settle  down.  Can't  we  appease 
her  with  a  new  blue  parasol?  " 

"It  wouldn't  end  in  one.  I  should  have 
to  go  about  the  world  continually  appeasing 
people  with  blue  parasols.  He  's  only  three 
now.  What  will  he  do  when  he  is  older? ' ' 

"School,"  said  Myles,  and  then  saw  that 
he  had  made  a  mistake.  He  tried  to  better 
it.  "Of  course,  you'll  hate  giving  him  up. 
He  's  a  splendid  little  chap." 

"It's  not  that."  She  turned  her  head 
aside  and  answered  slowly:  "I  would  like  to 
give  him  everything  he  ought  to  have,  but — " 
Her  voice  changed — hardened.  "Had  n't  we 
better  be  moving  on  ?  I  was  forgetting  the  time, 
and  this  cannot  be  interesting  to — a  stranger." 

"On  the  contrary,  it  interests  me  very 
much." 


Myles  Egerton  Offers  Reparation    97 

He  showed  no  signs  of  wanting  to  move  on. 
He  looked  down  at  the  ground,  and  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  on  his  boots. 

He  spoke  rather  jerkily. 

"Mrs.  Trevor,  I  've — got  a  confession  to 
make.  I  'm  not  a  stranger.  I  'm — the  boy — 
well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  came  out  here  to 
find  him." 

She  turned  a  puzzled  face  and  frowned  a 
little. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ROSE  TREVOR  REFUSES  TO  ACCEPT 

MYLES  picked  up  a  fir  cone  and,  throwing 
it  into  the  stream,  watched  it  sucked 
under  by  the  water  before  he  answered. 

"That  woman  you  found  speaking  to  me 
in  the  hall  while  I  was  waiting  for  you  to 
come  down-stairs — she  was  very  inquisitive. 
I  don't  know  what  her  reasons  were  or  whether 
she  had  any,  but  she  was  very  much  excited 
about  my  name  in  the  Visitors'  Book — and 
also  yours.  She  had  discovered  a  similarity 
between  them.  She  said  she  had  spoken  to 
you  about  it,  and  you  said  nothing.  I  also 
said  nothing,  which  annoyed  her.  You 
thought,  of  course,  that  the  thing  was  a 
coincidence?" 

There  was  no  reply.  Only  a  quick  move- 
ment at  his  side  like  the  flutter  of  a  startled 
bird. 

"One  is  apt  to  wait  for  an  opportunity  to 
98 


Rose  Trevor  Refuses  to  Accept     99 

do  a  thing,  then  something  unexpected  crops 
up  and  forces  you  into  doing  it.  People  like 
Frau  Wolff  have  their  uses." 

He  was  trying  to  prepare  her,  to  lead  her 
up  to  his  point  of  view.  She  would  have 
none  of  it.  Her  voice  sounded  sharp;  a  little 
frightened. 

"Will  you  please  tell  me  exactly  what  you 
mean  ?  In  what  way  do  you  connect  my  name 
with  yours?" 

"Your  husband  was  my  cousin — I  was  his 
next-of-kin,"  he  said,  and  then  wished  he  had 
not  blurted  it  out  so  suddenly. 

The  colour  flamed  up  into  her  cheeks  and 
then  died  away  again.  In  a  swift  flash  of  in- 
tuition she  understood.  The  remembrance 
of  the  cruel  injustice  which  had  been  done  to 
her  child  swept  over  her.  It  was  this  man 
who  had  stolen  his  birthright. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  the " 

With  a  supreme  effort  she  checked  the  im- 
petuous words  which  rose  to  her  lips,  but  he 
finished  the  sentence  for  her. 

"I  am  the  man  whom  you  have  every 
reason  to  hate.  Don't  judge  me  hastily." 

She  struggled  to  regain  her  composure. 
Circumstances  had  trained  her  to  the  habit 
of  self-control.  But  he  would  rather  have 


ioo        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

seen  anger  flash  from  her  eyes  than  hear  the 
coldness  in  her  voice. 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  judging  you."  She 
looked  down  at  the  blue  gentian  which  lay 
on  her  lap.  Its  bloom  was  already  beginning 
to  darken.  "Mr.  Egerton,"  she  said  slowly, 
"I  don't  think  you  have  behaved  fairly  to 
me.  You  had  no  right  to  make  my  acquain- 
tance under  false  pretences." 

He  started. 

"Forgive  me,  but  is  that  true?" 

"You  knew  who  I  was,  and  I  did  not  know 
who  you  were." 

It  was  so  very  feminine — a  little  pathetic. 
How  far  had  she  committed  herself?  Tena- 
cious of  her  reserve,  had  she  allowed  him  to 
see  behind  the  armour  of  her  defence?  He 
had  known  and  she  had  not.  It  was  all 
summed  up  in  that,  and  he  understood. 

"My  position  was  a  difficult  one,"  he  said 
gravely.  "Will  you  listen  to  me  for  a  few 
minutes?  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  recall  painful 
memories." 

"Is  it  necessary?"  she  said.  "Nothing 
can  alter  the  past." 

"It  is  very  necessary,  It  is  to  alter  the 
past  that  I  am  here." 

"That  can  never  be,"  she  answered. 


Rose  Trevor  Refuses  to  Accept    101 

He  hated  his  task. 

"May  I  speak?"  he  said. 

She  acquiesced  silently. 

"It  is  nearly  three  years  since  old  Benjamin 
Trevor  died.  Your  husband,  who  was  his 
only  child,  predeceased  him  by  a  few  weeks. 
At  the  time  of  Mr.  Trevor's  death  I  was  absent 
from  England,  but  Mr.  Ridley,  the  man  who 
is  with  me  here  in  Waldhof ,  was  present  at 
the  reading  of  his  will.  He  left  everything 
to  my  mother.  The  property  was  to  come  to 
me  at  her  death,  and  I  was  to  take  the  name 
of  Trevor  added  to  that  of  my  own." 

He  paused  for  a  moment. 

"The  will  was  acted  upon  with  the  best 
intentions  because — no  one  knew  the  truth." 

He  saw  the  hands  which  lay  so  near  his 
own  clasp  and  unclasp  each  other  nervously. 
He  heard  her  quick,  irregular  breathing. 

"No  one  knew  of  my  cousin,  Cyril  Trevor's 
marriage.  No  one  knew  that  when  he  died 
he  left  a  widow  and  child." 

There  was  dead  silence.  Myles  waited  for 
her  to  break  it,  but  she  did  not.  He  watched 
her  hands;  they  told  him  much.  They 
struggled  to  speak  for  her.  He  went  on, 
wishing  his  task  was  finished. 

"Old  Benjamin  Trevor  had  never  told  any 


102        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

one  of  his  son's  marriage.  It  was  almost  by 
an  accident  that  the  truth  was  found  out. 

"Six  months  ago  my  mother  died.  I  was 
again  out  of  England  at  the  time  and  it  was 
only  lately  that  I  was  able  to  attend  to  busi- 
ness. I  found  an  enormous  accumulation  of 
papers  belonging  to  the  old  man  which  had 
never  been  examined,  and  I  asked  Mr.  Ridley 
to  help  me.  At  one  time  he  had  fceen  private 
secretary  to  my  uncle,  and  knew  his  ways. 
It  was  he  who  made  the  discovery.  A  packet 
of  letters  was  found  in  the  recess  of  an  old 
desk  where  I  certainly  should  not  have  looked 
myself.  They  were  letters  from  Cyril  Trevor 
to  his  father.  They  told  of  his  engagement, 
and  of  his  marriage.  And " 

For  the  first  time  his  voice  failed  him. 

"At  the  end  there  was  a  letter  in — another 
handwriting.  It  was  to  tell  of  his  death,  and 
— of  the  birth  of  his  child. 

"I  can't  go  on,"  he  said  rather  huskily. 
"I  don't  want  to  reproach  you,  but  why  have 
you  chosen  to  live  this  life  of  isolation?  Why 
did  you  never  allow  any  of  us  to  know  of 
your  existence?" 

She  drew  herself  up  with  a  proud  gesture. 

"You  can  know  little  of  the  real  truth  if 
you  can  ask  me  that  question." 


Rose  Trevor  Refuses  to  Accept   103 

Her  eyes  flashed  now.  He  was  glad.  He 
would  rather  see  her  angry  than  cold.  The 
colour  which  had  such  a  maddening  trick  of 
coming  and  going  under  the  clear  skin  flushed 
her  white  cheeks.  He  prided  himself  upon 
being  the  least  susceptible  of  men.  He  pulled 
himself  together  sharply. 

"I  do  know.  I  respect  your  pride;  but  be 
just.  Am  I  to  be  held  responsible  for  another 
man's  sins?" 

He  saw  her  lips  quiver. 

' '  You  read  Cyril's  letters  to  his  father.  You 
did  not  see  the  answers  he  received  to  them." 

"No,  but  I  can  understand.  Don't  speak 
of  them  if  it  pains  you." 

"I  will  speak.  I  must."  She  threw  up  her 
head.  "I  am  as  well  born  as  the  Trevors. 
If  I  had  been  some  disreputable  creature 
whom  it  was  a  disgrace  to  acknowledge,  I 
could  not  have  been  treated  worse." 

She  silenced  him  when  he  would  have  spoken 
with  an  imperative  gesture. 

"You  ought  to  know." 

He  had  wanted  to  spare  her,  and  she 
would  not.  She  tried  to  speak  calmly.  He 
read  beyond  the  words  to  the  pain  and  pas- 
sion: the  pent-up  revolt  against  the  wrong 
of  these  three  lonely  years. 


104        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"You  know  that  I  met  my  husband  abroad 
— that  we  were  in  Italy,  my  aunt  and  I ;  that 
she  was  my  only  relation,  that  my  marriage 
took  place  at  her  death-bed  at  a  few  hours' 
notice?  The  letters  told  you  that?" 

"Yes." 

"I  hardly  realised  what  I  had  done  until 
it  was  over.  She  died  happy,  thinking  that — 
I  was  happy.  Then  came  the  time — after 
Cyril  had  told  his  father  of  his  marriage.  It 
was  terrible.  The  doubts,  the  insults,  the 
insinuations,  nothing  seemed  to  be  too  con- 
temptible to  throw  at  me." 

Myles  raged  inwardly.  She  ought  never 
to  have  known  of  these  things. 

"It  went  on  for  weeks — months.  Then 
a  fever  broke  out  in  the  little  village  where 
we  were  staying,  and  Cyril  caught  it.  We 
had  been  living  very  quietly.  He  had  never 
made  his  marriage  known,  and  I — I  kept 
silence  because  he  wished  it.  He  was  only 
ill  for  a  few  days,  and  he  was  delirious  most 
of  the  time.  Just  at  the  last  he  was  conscious. 
He  made  me  promise  two  things.  To  call 
the  child,  if  it  were  a  boy,  Benjamin  after  his 
father,  and  that  I  would  write  to  the  old  man 
and  say  that  that  had  been  his  last  wish,  and 
plead  for  forgiveness. 


Rose  Trevor  Refuses  to  Accept    105 

"It  was  terribly  hard  to  do;  I  felt  so  bitter; 
I  hated  the  old  man.  He  was  like  a  murderer ; 
but  I  kept  my  promise.  That  was  the  letter 
in  the  strange  handwriting  which  you  found 
amongst  the  others." 

Myles  remembered  every  word  of  that 
letter.  Pitiful  in  what  was  said;  more  pitiful 
still  in  what  was  left  unsaid.  The  dying  ap- 
peal of  the  weak,  spoilt  man,  to  the  last  throw- 
ing the  burden  on  her.  He  had  read  it  with  a 
lump  in  his  throat,  not  ashamed  of  the  tears 
which  blurred  his  sight. 

"He  answered  that  letter?" 

"Yes — I  cannot  think  how  any  man  could 
bring  himself  to  write  such  a  letter  to  a  woman. 
He  knew  that  I  stood  alone.  I  suppose  he 
wanted  to  crush  out  the  knowledge  of  my 
existence.  He  distorted  every  circumstance. 
Everything  was  turned  against  me.  At  the 
end  he  said  that  his  sense  of  justice  to  those 
who  came  after  him  would  not  allow  him  to 
burden  himself  with  the  claims  of  a  child  of 
whom — he  knew  nothing." 

Her  voice  broke:  she  stopped.  To  Myles's 
unutterable  dismay  her  composure  broke 
down.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  sat  trembling ;  struggling  against  the  emo- 
tion which  was  shaking  her  from  head  to  foot. 


io6        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

He  had  never  felt  so  helpless  in  his  life. 
He  did  not  dare  to  comfort  her.  What  could 
he  do?  He  did  perhaps  the  only  thing  that 
was  possible.  He  got  up  and  walked  to  the 
end  of  the  bank  and  left  her  to  fight  her 
battle  alone. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  when  he  came  back. 
She  was  a  little  flushed,  but  quite  composed. 

He  looked  up  at  the  lowering  sky. 

"I  think  we  're  going  to  have  a  thunder- 
storm," he  said. 

She  made  a  movement  with  her  hand  to  the 
seat  beside  her,  and  he  sat  down  again. 

"I  want  to  ask  you  something,"  she  said. 
"How  did  you  know  that  I  was  at  Waldhof ? " 

"I  did  not  know.  I  thought  I  was  never 
going  to  find  you.  The  address  on  the  letters 
helped  me  in  the  first  place,  but  I  lost  trace 
of  you." 

"That  sketch?  You  remember?  You  had 
been  to  the  place?  " 

"Yes.  I  am  afraid  it  hurt  you  seeing  that. 
I  was  sorry  about  it  afterwards,  because — 
well  I  was  almost  sure  I  had  found  you  that 
first  evening." 

"How?" 

"The  child  told  me  his  name,  and  you  see 
I  was  looking  for  a  little  boy  called  Benjamin. " 


Rose  Trevor  Refuses  to  Accept    107 

"What  made  you  come  to  Waldhof?" 

"Well,  I  believe"— he  smiled— " I  believe 
it  was  the  Wasser  Kur.  My  friend,  Mr. 
Ridley,  is  rather  fond  of  trying  experiments 
in  that  way.  Odd,  was  n't  it?  I  never 
dreamt  of  finding  you  here." 

"I  wanted  to  be  lost,"  she  said. 

"But  you  oughtn't  to  have  been  allowed 
to  get  lost.  Your  own  people " 

"There  was  no  one  to  care.  If  you  are 
far  away  and  do  not  answer  letters  and  want 
to  be  lost,  it  is  not  difficult." 

"It  has  all  been  a  terrible  muddle,"  said 
Myles. 

He  felt  resentful,  and  that  he  owed  some 
one  a  grudge.  He  was  nervous,  too;  for  the 
most  difficult  part  of  what  he  had  to  say  was 
still  unsaid,  and  he  did  not  know  how  she 
would  take  it. 

"You  know  why  I  wanted  to  find  you? 
Of  course,  I  give  up  all  claim  to  the  property." 

Her  whole  manner  stiffened,  and  she  drew 
herself  up. 

"That  is  quite  impossible.  I  cannot  listen 
to  such  a  thing." 

He  had  expected  her  to  say  something  of 
the  kind.  He  did  not  expostulate  or  argue. 

"I  'm  sorry,"  he  said.     "I  'd  hoped  you  'd 


io8       With  the  Merry  Austrians 

have  been  able  to  see  it  in  the  same  light  as  I 
did — for  the  sake  of  the  boy." 

He  could  not  have  chosen  an  answer  more 
calculated  to  appeal  to  her. 

"How  can  you  be  so  cruel  as  to  say  that?" 
she  exclaimed.  "  Cannot  you  see  for  yourself 
how  hateful  that  old  man's  money  is  to  me? 
How  he  insulted,  humiliated  me!  I  could  not 
bring  myself  to  touch  it." 

"If  I  died  to-morrow  the  boy  would  step 
into  my  shoes,"  said  Myles.  "Don't  you 
think  I  have  a  slight  claim  on  him?" 

He  felt  it  was  treading  on  dangerous  ground 
to  put  it  that  way,  but  he  risked  it. 

"I  cannot  listen,"  she  repeated. 

Her  voice  was  sharp  and  strained ;  she  clung 
desperately  to  that  ghost  of  the  past.  Three 
years  of  lonely  brooding  over  a  wrong  must 
leave  its  mark,  he  told  himself,  and  he  must 
have  patience.  He  had  gained  a  hearing, 
that  was  all.  But  it  was  something.  He 
could  afford  to  wait. 

No  sound  broke  the  silence  which  fell  be- 
tween them  but  the  rush  of  the  water  as  it 
swept  past ;  the  air  was  hot  and  sultry,  heavy 
with  the  oppressive  gloom  of  a  gathering 
storm. 

Suddenly,  from  the  cliffs  above  their  heads 


Rose  Trevor  Refuses  to  Accept    109 

came  a  curious  call,  like  a  wild  bird's  note. 
It  was  repeated,  echoing  from  side  to  side  of 
the  Thai. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Rose. 

Myles  stood  up.  The  call  rang  out  again. 
High  against  the  sky-line  he  distinguished  a 
figure. 

"It  's  young  Scholan,"  he  said.  "I  expect 
he  's  been  sent  to  look  for  us.  The  Grafin 
thinks  we  've  lost  our  way." 

He  picked  up  her  gloves  which  had  fallen 
and  gave  them  to  her. 

"I  hope  you  won't  let  what  I  've  said  spoil 
your  day,"  he  said.  "Will  you  try  and  not 
think  about  it?" 

Rudolf's  call  sounded  quite  near  now.  A 
moment  later  they  heard  him  clattering  down 
the  path. 

"I  will  not  let  it  spoil  any  one's  day,"  she 
answered  quietly. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  PICNIC  AT  THE  SCHULTERTHAL 
RESTAURANT 

TT  was  true  that  Rudolf  had  been  despatched 
*  by  Ilka  to  find  out  what  had  become  of 
the  laggards  of  her  party. 

He  had  started  off  in  a  great  hurry,  but  he 
did  not  hurry  on  the  way  back.  He  found  it 
an  agreeable  task  helping  Mrs.  Trevor  to 
climb  the  precipitous  path,  and  as  the  English- 
man had  fallen  a  few  paces  behind  after  the 
first  start,  he  was  allowed  to  have  it  his  own 
way. 

The  restaurant  was  reached  after  half  an 
hour's  stiff  climb.  It  was  a  primitive  little 
place,  merely  a  mountain  chalet,  perched  on  a 
patch  of  level  ground  beside  a  quaint,  slim- 
spired  church  overhanging  the  Schulterthal. 
A  few  tables  and  chairs  occupied  the  square 
in  front  of  the  door,  and  a  Skittle  Alley,  pro- 

IIO 


Picnic  at  Schulterthal  Restaurant     in 

tected  by  a  wooden  roof,  ran  along  one  side 
of  the  outer  wall. 

The  view  would  have  been  grand  if  the  day 
had  been  fine,  but  the  clouds  hung  low,  and 
distant  growls  of  thunder  had  been  threatening 
ominously  for  some  time.  Almost  at  the 
moment  that  they  emerged  from  the  shelter 
of  the  pines  the  heavens  were  torn  asunder 
above  their  heads  and  the  rain  descended  in  a 
sudden  deluge. 

Rudolf  caught  Rose  by  the  hand  uncere- 
moniously and  raced  her  across  the  few  yards 
of  open  space  between  the  trees  and  the  restau- 
rant. He  made  a  dash  for  the  nearest  shelter, 
which  happened  to  be  the  Skittle  Alley.  Under 
its  broad  roof  they  were  in  safety.  The  rain 
poured  from  its  overhanging  eaves ;  it  was  like 
standing  under  a  miniature  Niagara. 

"Gott!  but  it  waters  from  above,"  he  ex- 
claimed, shaking  a  great  splash  from  the  sleeve 
of  his  tunic.  "The  Englishman  is  caught. 
He  was  too  proud  to  run." 

Rose  gave  a  sharp  exclamation.  Myles 
had  been  a  little  behind  them.  She  saw  him 
crossing  the  open  ground  which  she  and 
Rudolf  had  traversed  the  minute  before,  and 
then  a  blinding  streak  of  lightning  blotted 
out  his  figure.  A  deafening  crash  of  thunder 


ii2        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

followed  almost  instantaneously.  She  put 
up  her  hands  before  her  eyes  and  shrank  back 
against  the  wall. 

A  light  laugh  from  Rudolf,  and  she  looked 
up  to  see  Myles  standing  beside  her. 

"Lucky  you  escaped  that,"  he  said. 

The  dazzle  of  the  lightning  was  still  in  his 
eyes,  and  made  her  face  look  very  white,  he 
thought. 

1 '  Rudi !     Rudi ! ' '  called  a  voice. 

A  window  was  thrown  open  and  Ilka  Rentier 
put  out  her  head. 

"Ah!  you  are  all  there.  I  have  been  look- 
ing for  you  many  times.  I  come." 

She  disappeared,  to  appear  a  moment  later 
running  down  the  steps  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  Alley,  and  threw  up  her  hands  at  sight  of 
Rose  standing  in  a  pool  of  water. 

"Oh,  you  poor  drowned  ones!"  she  ex- 
claimed, and  called  back  something  through 
the  door.  A  girl  ran  out  with  a  large  towel 
and  began  a  vigorous  rubbing  down  of  all 
three. 

The  buzz  of  voices  and  the  clatter  of  knives 
and  forks  could  be  heard  from  the  open 
windows. 

Ilka  put  her  arm  through  Rose's. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "you  must  be  so  hungry, 


Picnic  at  Schulterthal  Restaurant     113 

and  we  have  already  begun  to  eat.  We  will 
go  into  the  Speise  Saal." 

Greetings  were  showered  upon  the  late 
comers  as  they  entered  the  Saal;  chairs  were 
pushed  back  and  places  made  for  them. 
Rose  found  herself  seated  between  Rudolf 
and  a  young  officer  of  the  Kaiser  Jagers.  Op- 
posite to  her  sat  Vilma,  and  her  expression 
was  the  reverse  of  friendly.  It  did  not  lighten 
when  Ilka  took  possession  of  the  Englishman 
and  carried  him  off  to  her  end  of  the  table. 

The  scene  inside  the  low,  pine-panelled 
room  was  a  characteristic  one;  typical  of  the 
country  and  the  light-hearted  people.  Gay 
voices  and  laughing  repartee  mingled  with 
the  crash  of  the  thunder  without:  the  light- 
ning flashed  in  at  the  uncurtained  windows 
and  caught  the  glitter  of  a  sword  hilt,  or 
danced  on  the  gold  of  a  braided  tunic.  One 
moment  the  room  was  in  semi-darkness — the 
next  quivering  in  a  flame  of  violet  light;  and 
in  and  out  pattered  the  peasant  girls,  carrying 
foaming  glasses  of  beer  and  the  long  flat  dishes 
on  which  were  served  what  the  Grafin  called, 
"The  eatings  of  the  country." 

Rudolf  glanced  at  the  menu  and  handed 
it  to  Rose. 

"Forelle?"  he  said.     "You  permit  me  to 

t 


ii4        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

wait  upon  you?"  and  he  laid  two  little  moun- 
tain trout  of  a  most  beautiful  shade  of  blue 
upon  her  plate. 

"They  are  too  pretty  to  eat,"  she  said. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  answered.  "I  do  not  like 
things  ugly.  Or  things  that  are  half  ugly 
and  half  pretty.  I  do  not  like  middlings." 

Rose  bent  over  the  menu  card.  Even  a 
mountain  restaurant  considers  it  necessary 
to  place  a  menu  on  its  table  for  the  mid-day 
meal. 

" Schmdrrn,"  she  read  out.  "That  is  a 
kind  of  pudding  which  the  peasants  eat.  And 
Knodels — ugly  little  dumplings." 

Rudolf  made  a  grimace. 

"When  I  eat  such  things  I  will  look  into 
your  eyes — then  I  forget  that  they  are  ugly." 

He  was  in  wild  spirits  and  in  the  mood  to 
do  anything  that  came  into  his  head.  He 
kept  his  end  of  the  table  in  a  state  of  lively 
anticipation  as  to  what  was  coming  next,  and 
more  than  once  the  sound  of  Rose's  soft  laugh 
made  Myles  look  up. 

The  storm  deepened.  Peal  after  peal  thun- 
dered overhead;  at  times  the  noise  and  dazzle 
were  bewildering.  In  the  middle  of  a  terrific 
crash  Rose  felt  something  brush  the  back  of 
her  hand  as  lightly  as  a  butterfly's  wing. 


Picnic  at  Schulterthal  Restaurant      115 

"Herr  Baron!"  she  said  severely. 

At  the  tone  of  her  voice  Rudolf  leant  for- 
ward, his  eyes  dancing. 

"No  one  see  that  I  kiss  your  hand.  I  do 
it  so  quick,"  he  whispered. 

"You  may  kiss  my  hand  when  you  say 
'Good  morning'  or  'Good  evening,'  but  not 
in  the  middle  of  a  thunder-storm  when  I  'm 
not  looking.  I  shall  be  very  angry  if  you  do 
it  again." 

Rudolf  sighed. 

"If  you  look  at  me  so  severiously  I  will 
weep.  I  weep  now.  Already  my  eyes  begin 
to  be  small." 

"You  are  just  like  a  mischievous  child. 
It  is  no  use  scolding  you." 

"No  use  at  all,"  he  agreed  readily.  He 
raised  his  glass  and  touched  it  with  his  lips. 
"I  drink  to  the  'Lady  of  my  Heart'!  The 
only  one  in  all  the  world  whom  I  have  ever 
loved." 

"Oh!  What  about  Editha,  and  Therese, 
and  Wilhelmina,  and — all  the  others?" 

He  put  down  his  glass  and  helped  himself 
to  Knodel. 

"I  have  two  hearts,"  he  said.  "One  for 
quick  loves  and  one  for  loves  that  stay." 

What  further  revelations  he  was  going  on 


n6        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

to  make  regarding  the  depth  of  his  affections 
were  interrupted  by  a  hand  being  laid  on  his 
shoulder,  and  he  looked  up  to  find  his  sister 
standing  behind  him. 

"Rudi,  what  are  we  to  do  with  all  these 
people?"  she  said.  "It  continues  to  rain 
without  ceasing.  We  must  make  an  amuse- 
ment." 

Rudolf  pushed  back  his  chair  and  took  a 
cigarette  out  of  his  case. 

"The  gnadige  Frau  permits  me?"  he  said 
before  lighting  it. 

Ilka  patted  his  shoulder. 

"Think  of  something,  Rudi.  We  must 
make  an  amusement.  What  are  we  to  do?" 

"Liebling,"  he  murmured  affectionately. 
"But  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  do  nothing. 
I  am  learning  much  English.  Also  there  is 
already  an  amusement  provided  for  us.  The 
wife  of  the  Herr  Hauptman  is  about  to  play 
the  piano.  Gott  Himmel!  but  she  makes  much 
exercise  of  her  body  when  she  plays.  She 
go  so!  Poof!  Poof!  Poof!"  and  he  raised 
himself  up  and  down  in  his  chair.  "She  is 
not  beautiful,  but  her  hands,  they  please  me. 
I  find  them  appetitlich,  so  I  watch  her." 

Ilka  shook  him. 

"We  cannot  listen  all  day  to  the  Frau 


Picnic  at  Schulterthal  Restaurant     117 

Hauptman  breaking  the  piano,"  she  said. 
She  whispered  something  in  Rose's  ear. 

The  latter  hesitated,  and  then  said: 

"Herr  Baron,  will  you  not  do  what  your 
sister  wishes?" 

Rudolf  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  He 
laid  his  hand  on  his  heart  and  bowed  low. 
He  did  not  say  anything,  but  slipped  quietly 
out  of  the  room. 

Ilka  sat  down  in  the  chair  he  had  va- 
cated. 

"He  will  make  a  little  play,"  she  said,  "and 
we  guess  what  it  is." 

A  few  minutes  passed  and  Rudolf  came  in 
again.  He  swept  back  the  chairs  and  tables 
against  the  wall  and  cleared  a  space  by  the 
door,  then  hurried  out.  He  was  absent  for 
longer  the  next  time,  and  reappeared  stagger- 
ing under  the  weight  of  an  enormous  wooden 
tub  which  he  bumped  down  on  the  floor. 

He  looked  round  as  though  in  search  of  an. 
inspiration. 

"Your  handkerchief?"  he  cried,  appealing 
to  Rose,  and  she  gave  it  to  him. 

In  half  a  minute  he  had  folded  and  fashioned 
it  into  the  form  of  a  small  white  bird  which 
he  placed  on  the  floor  about  two  feet  in  front 
of  the  tub.  He  spoke  a  few  words  in  an  under- 


n8        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

tone  to  the  lady  at  the  piano  and  again 
vanished. 

Almost  before  the  audience  had  time  to 
speculate  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  tub  and 
the  handkerchief,  the  door  was  flung  open 
and  a  figure  strode  in.  A  white  sheet  fell  in 
statuesque  folds  from  its  shoulders;  an  old 
metal  wine-cooler  was  turned  upside  down  on 
its  head,  with  the  handles  dangling  over  its 
ears,  and  a  sword  was  girded  to  its  side  with 
a  piece  of  string. 

The  wife  of  the  Herr  Hauptman  struck  a 
crash  of  chords  on  the  piano,  and  the  figure 
opened  its  mouth  and  burst  into  a  sonorous 
recitative  which  echoed  through  the  small 
room  like  a  trumpet  blast.  Words  and  music 
were  made  up  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  and 
had  no  connection  with  anything  in  particu- 
lar. Crash!  Another  chord  from  the  piano, 
and  the  figure  stepped  majestically  into  the 
tub. 

Shouts  of  "Bravo!  Lohengrin!  Lohen- 
grin!" resounded  from  all  sides,  and  some  one 
dashed  forward  to  secure  the  white  swan 
which  had  been  made  out  of  the  English  lady's 
handkerchief. 

But  that  was  not  part  of  Rudolf's  game. 
The  handkerchief  was  safely  tucked  into  the 


Picnic  at  Schulterthal  Restaurant      119 

breast  of  his  tunic  before  any  one  could  reach 
it. 

"My  Gage  d' Amour,"  he  cried,  laughing. 

Ilka  clapped  her  hands  to  restore  order.  ' 

"We  will  have  another  game.  I  have 
thought  of  one."  She  jumped  up.  "Now," 
she  said,  holding  up  her  finger.  "We  play 
this  game  so !  All  the  ladies  remain  seated  in 
a  circle  and  one  gentleman  will  offer  to  go  out 
of  the  room.  He  will  look  first  to  see  where 
all  the  ladies  are  sitting.  Then  a  bandage  is 
put  over  his  eyes,  and  when  he  is  brought  in 
again  he  must  try  to  find  the  lady  whom  he 
loves  best  for  to  kiss  her." 

A  chorus  of  assent  greeted  this  suggestion. 

"Who  will  be  the  first  gentleman  to  wish  to 
go  out?"  she  cried. 

The  words  were  hardly  uttered  before  every 
man  in  the  room  was  making  a  dash  for  the 
door.  They  flattened  themselves  against  it 
in  a  solid  block,  but  Rudolf  had  managed  to 
lay  hold  of  the  handle  and  held  on  to  it.  He 
had  had  every  intention  of  making  use  of  his 
advantage  himself,  when  he  saw  that  Mr. 
Egerton  had  not  joined  in  the  scrimmage  and 
was  leaning  against  the  wall  a  few  inches  from 
him  looking  rather  bored. 

In  an  instant  he  had  the  door  wrenched 


120        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

open,  had  caught  Myles  by  the  arm,  and  had 
shoved  him  outside  into  the  passage. 

He  came  back  and  threw  himself  down  in 
a  chair  beside  Rose. 

"Ha,  ha!"  he  laughed.  "We  will  now  see 
how  the  Englishman  does  kissing." 

Ilka  ordered  a  general  post,  and  every  one 
changed  places. 

"We  deceive  him,"  she  whispered.  "Such 
is  part  of  the  game." 

She  beckoned  to  the  young  Kaiser  Jager 
who  had  been  sitting  next  Rose  at  lunch  and 
told  him  to  ask  the  Herr  Englishman  if  he 
was  prepared  to  come  in. 

He  opened  the  door  about  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  and  called  out  the  only  two  English  words 
he  knew,  which  he  had  picked  up  at  tennis. 

"Read-e-e?    Pl-a-y-ee?" 

An  answer  came  back  in  the  affirmative. 

Rose  was  perhaps  the  only  one  in  the  room 
to  whom  it  came  as  a  surprise.  She  had  quite 
expected  that  Myles  would  take  the  oppor- 
tunity of  quietly  disappearing. 

He  allowed  himself  to  be  led  in  blindfold 
and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  door,  facing 
the  audience. 

No  one  moved. 

The  two  peasant  girls  who  had  been  waiting 


Picnic  at  Schulterthal  Restaurant      121 

at  lunch  were  busy  clearing  away  the  dishes. 
They  also  paused  to  look  on.  One  was  a  plain- 
looking  girl,  the  other  was  pretty. 

The  pretty  girl  dropped  a  spoon,  and  it  fell 
noisily  on  the  floor.  Myles  turned  round 
quickly,  and,  stooping  down,  kissed  her  on 
both  cheeks. 

His  unexpected  manner  of  getting  himself 
out  of  the  difficulty  was  received  with  rounds 
of  applause. 

The  girl  laughed.  She  took  the  incident 
at  its  proper  value  and,  unembarrassed, 
bustled  out  of  the  room  with  her  pile  of  plates. 

Rudolf  nodded  approvingly. 

"The  Englishman  knows  how  to  play  the 
game.  He  kiss  the  pretty  girl." 

"I  was  surprised  he  consented  to  play  any 
game,"  answered  Rose.  "I  expected  when 
you  put  him  outside  that  he  would  run  away." 

"Why  did  you  credit  me  with  so  little 
courage?"  said  a  voice  at  her  elbow. 

She  looked  round. 

"Mr.  Egerton,  who  blindfolded  you?" 

"I  did  it  myself." 

"Ah!  Some  people  have  wonderful  sight. 
They  can  almost  see  through  a  stone  wall." 

He  was  carefully  rolling  up  the  scarf  which 
had  been  tied  over  his  eyes. 


122        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"And  some  people  run  their  heads  up 
against  stone  walls.  Perhaps  I  am  doing  the 
latter." 

Ilka  called  to  him  to  help  her  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  a  new  game,  and  he  turned  away. 

The  storm  thundered  on;  the  rain  fell  in  a 
steady  deluge.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon 
before  the  faintest  break  lightened  the  heavy 
clouds. 

"We  must  start  at  once,"  declared  Ilka, 
who  felt  that  she  had  pretty  well  exhausted 
every  form  of  amusement. 

"But  the  wife  of  the  Herr  Hauptman  is 
jausening,  having  afternoon  tea,"  said  Rudolf, 
who  was  never  in  a  hurry  to  move  when  he 
happened  to  be  sitting  next  to  the  person  he 
liked. 

"It  is  for  the  second  time  that  she  isjausen- 
ing,"  exclaimed  Ilka.  "You  must  tell  her 
to  hurry.  Make  her  come,  Rudi.  If  she  will 
not  come  quickly,  bring  her  in  your  arms." 

"  Aber  neinl  not  in  my  arms.  That  would 
not  be  agreeable  to  me." 

He  returned  from  giving  his  message  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"She  will  not  hurry:  she  is  jausening  with 
both  hands.  She  has  little  in  her  head,  so 
she  puts  much  in  her  body." 


Picnic  at  Schulterthal  Restaurant      123 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  said  Ilka. 

Rudolf  put  his  head  on  one  side  and  looked 
at  her. 

"I  will  wait  to  escort  the  Frau  Hauptman," 
he  said.  "I  will  wait  until  she  has  finished 
jausening"  And  Ilka,  who  was  anxious  to 
get  her  party  under  way,  did  not  stop  to 
wonder  at  his  offer. 

He  turned  an  appealing  face  to  Rose. 

"She  is  a  most  formeedable  woman.  I  am 
very  much  afraid  of  her.  Will  you  not  help 
me?" 

Rose  laughed. 

"Shall  I  stay  and  protect  you?"  she  said. 

"You  will?"  he  exclaimed  eagerly. 

"Yes,  if  you  like.  Whilst  she  is  finishing 
her  tea  I  will  get  one  of  the  maids  to  pin  up 
my  skirt.  It  is  too  long.  I  wonder  if  I  will 
be  able  to  make  her  understand  my  bad 
German?" 

"But  I  will  explain,"  said  Rudolf,  with 
suspicious  alacrity. 

He  called  to  the  pretty  girl  who  had  helped 
Myles  out  of  his  difficulty  and  said  something 
to  her  so  quickly  that  Rose  did  not  hear  what 
it  was. 

The  girl  smiled  and  nodded  and  beckoned 
to  her  to  follow  her.  She  led  the  way  to  the 


124        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

kitchen,  and,  producing  a  large  pin-cushion, 
began  an  elaborate  arrangement  of  tucking  up 
which  appeared  to  Rose  to  take  a  very  long 
time. 

When  she  returned  to  the  Saal  she  found  it 
deserted  except  for  Rudolf,  who  was  walking 
up  and  down  smoking  a  cigarette. 

"I  am  ready"  she  said,  glancing  down  at 
her  shortened  skirts.  "She  took  a  long  time. 
Shall  we  start?  Where  is  the  Frau  Haupt- 
man?" 

"She  is  gone.  She  has  run  away  very 
fast." 

"Gone!  I  thought  we  were  to  wait  for 
her?" 

Rudolf  waved  his  cigarette  towards  the 
open  window. 

"It  was  necessary  for  me  to  send  her  away. 
If  not,  she  would  walk  with  us  and  that  would 
have  been  impossible!  I  say  to  her  that  I 
have  seen  her  husband  give  his  cloak  to  the 
Baronin  Vilma.  It  was  not  so,  of  course;  but 
it  make  her  run  away  to  catch  him.  She  runs 
very  fast.  It  is  true  that  she  has  the  legs  of 
an  ostrich." 


CHAPTER  XI 

ROSE  AND  RUDOLF  DO  NOT  RETURN 

VILMA  SEYBELL  had  determined  that  Mr. 
Egerton  should  be  her  companion  on  the 
return  journey,  and  by  a  succession  of  small 
manoeuvres  she  managed  to  get  her  own 
way.  He  proved  a  very  quiet  companion, 
but  that  did  not  strike  her  as  peculiar.  He 
was  never  demonstrative,  and  her  experience 
of  Englishmen  was,  that  they  were  not  inclined 
to  take  the  initiative  in  talking.  They  pre- 
ferred a  woman  to  do  that  for  them.  She  was 
quite  pleased  to  talk  whilst  he  listened,  but 
she  would  have  been  very  much  annoyed  had 
she  known  that  he  retained  but  the  faintest 
recollection  of  what  she  had  been  talking 
about,  and  that  from  start  to  finish  of  the  walk 
his  mind  had  been  entirely  occupied  by  his 
own  thoughts. 

If  Myles  had  been  told  that  Vilma  Seybell 
was  in  love  with  him  he  would  have  been 
both  surprised  and  annoyed.  He  was  not  a 

125 


126        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

vain  man,  and  the  attention  he  had  paid  to 
her  the  preceding  winter  in  Vienna  had  seemed 
to  him  the  natural  tribute  a  pretty  woman 
would  expect  from  any  man  who  was  thrown 
constantly  in  her  society. 

Vilma  had  thought  he  had  meant  a  great 
deal  more.  In  her  own  selfish  way  she  was 
in  love  with  him.  When  he  unexpectedly 
appeared  at  Waldhof ,  she  had  at  once  rushed 
to  the  conclusion  that  she  was  the  cause  of 
his  coming.  But  when  the  days  went  by  and 
nothing  happened,  she  did  not  know  what  to 
think  of  it.  His  manner  puzzled  her,  for  he 
never  went  out  of  his  way  to  seek  her  society. 
He  seemed  quite  as  pleased  to  talk  to  one 
woman  as  to  another.  She  did  not  particu- 
larly mind  his  talking  to  other  women  so  long 
as  it  was  not  to  Mrs.  Trevor.  Of  Mrs.  Trevor 
she  was  intensely  jealous.  From  the  first  she 
had  had  a  presentiment  that  Myles  for  some 
reason  was  interested  in  her,  and  she  hated 
her  accordingly. 

Myles  parted  with  Vilma  at  the  door  of  the 
Schloss.  He  did  not  see  her,  or  any  of  the 
returned  party  again,  until  he  entered 
the  Speise  Saal  at  supper  time. 

He  was  late,  and  the  room  was,  as  usual  at 
that  hour,  crowded.  His  first  glance  round 


Rose  and  Rudolf  do  not  Return     127 

told  him  that  Rose  was  not  sitting  in  her  ac- 
customed place,  and  Rudolf  also  was  absent. 
Ilka  Rentier,  who  had  found  the  day's  expedi- 
tion exhausting,  had  retired  to  her  own  rooms. 

Vilma's  eyes  plainly  invited  him  to  join  her 
party,  but  he  either  did  not,  or  would  not, 
understand  her  meaning.  Mr.  Ridley  was 
sitting  at  a  table  by  himself  and  he  joined  him. 

"My  dear  chap,"  he  remarked,  as  he  drew 
in  a  chair.  "What  are  you  doing?  Is  this 
a  new  kind  of  Patience?" 

Charles  had  cleared  a  space  on  the  table- 
cloth in  front  of  him,  and  arranged  on  it,  in 
symmetrical  order,  were  rows  of  small  squares 
of  grey  flannel. 

"I  'm  choosing  a  suit  of  clothes,"  he  said. 
"The  last  few  days  I  Ve  suffered  so  excessively 
from  the  heat  that  I  am  quite  sure  I  am  losing 
weight.  It  is  most  distressing." 

Myles  fingered  one  of  the  squares  of  flannel. 
It  was  a  fad  of  Charles's  to  buy  clothes  where- 
ever  he  went. 

"Who  's  to  be  your  tailor  this  time?  Local 
talent?  I  'd  give  him  a  pattern  to  copy  if  I 
were  you." 

Charles  fidgeted  uneasily.  Frau  Wolff  had 
overheard  him  making  inquiries  about  a  tailor 
and  had  at  once  made  overtures  of  help  which 


128        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

he  had  accepted.  He  was  not  sure  whether 
Myles  would  approve.  He  explained  a  little, 
but  did  not  mention  Frau  Wolff's  name. 

Myles  listened  perfunctorily  and  ate  his 
supper.  When  he  had  finished,  he  lit  a  ciga- 
rette and  smoked  more  than  half  of  it  in 
silence.  Charles  was  discussing  the  point  as 
to  whether  the  flannel  suit  ought  to  have  a 
double-breasted  coat  or  a  single,  when  Myles 
asked  a  question  which  showed  that  his  mind 
had  wandered  from  the  subject  of  flannel  suits. 

"Charles,"  he  said  suddenly,  "what  kind 
of  a  man  was  Cyril  Trevor?" 

Mr.  Ridley  paused  in  the  rearrangement 
of  his  row  of  patterns,  and  looked  up  with  some 
astonishment. 

"You  never  knew  him?  Oh  no,  of  course, 
neither  you  did.  Cyril  Trevor?"  he  repeated 
thoughtfully.  "He  was — he  was — extremely 
good-looking." 

Myles  took  his  cigarette  out  of  his  mouth 
and  sat  staring  at  it. 

"The  kind  of  man  a  woman  would  make  a 
hereof?" 

Charles  cleared  his  throat.  He  always 
found  it  difficult  to  discuss  any  subject  which 
verged  on  sentiment;  but  under  the  primness 
of  his  manner  there  lay  a  very  strong  vein  of 


Rose  and  Rudolf  do  not  Return     129 

sentiment.  It  gave  him  at  times  an  insight 
into  human  nature  of  which  he  was  only  dimly 
conscious  himself. 

He  crumbled  his  bread  into  little  heaps, 
and  spoke  with  more  than  his  usual  careful 
precision. 

"I  think  Cyril  possessed  a  great  attraction 
for  women.  He  demanded  a  great  deal  from 
them.  I  have  not  gone  into  such  matters 
deeply,  but  it  has  frequently  occurred  to  me 
that  diffidence  in  a  man  is  not  appreciated. 
In  fact" — a  faint  colour  tinged  his  cheek — 
"it  is  misunderstood  for  weakness  by  the  other 
sex.  Cyril  would  give  a  woman  the  impression 
of  being  strong  and  masterful,  whereas  in  my 
opinion  he  was  not  a  strong  character.  And 
it  was  in  his  nature  to  avoid  responsibility." 

He  stopped,  a  little  aghast  at  his  own 
eloquence. 

Myles  leant  forward  with  his  arms  on  the 
table. 

"He  had  no  right  to  marry  in  the  way  he 
did.  It  was  a  hole-and-corner  business." 

Charles  flushed. 

"And  yet  there  was  a  kind  of — romantic 
sentiment  about  the  death-bed  marriage. 
Don't  you  think  so?" 

"Hang    the    sentiment!"    growled  Myles. 


130        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"What  good  did  he  do  by  marrying  her? 
Kept  her  living  out  there  under  a  cloud.  Nice 
way  of  looking  after  a  woman." 

"But,  you  see,  Cyril  was  dependent  on  his 
father;  he  had  no  money." 

"Why  the  devil  did  n't  he  set  to  work  to 
make  some?"  Myles  pushed  aside  a  plate 
impatiently.  "He  had  no  right  to  keep  his 
marriage  secret.  It  was  a  piece  of  criminal 
selfishness.  Why  did  n't  he  think  of  her?  " 

"Yes.  Yes,  of  course,"  agreed  Charles. 
It  was  unusual  of  Myles  to  speak  so  hotly. 
"But  if  the  story  of  his  marriage  had  not  been 
discovered,  the  consequences  would  have  been 
still  more  regrettable."  He  glanced  at  Myles 
expectantly.  "Now  that  our  search  has  been 
successful,  I  suppose — I  suppose  that  you 
will  explain?" 

"  Mrs.  Trevor  knows  who  I  am,"  said  Myles, 
shortly. 

Charles's  eyes  grew  round.  Inquiry  was 
written  all  over  his  face. 

"Was  she  very  much  surprised?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  she  was." 

Charles  was  puzzled  and  a  little  hurt.  Con- 
sidering the  share  he  had  had  in  bringing  about 
the  present  state  of  affairs,  he  thought  he  was 
entitled  to  a  certain  amount  of  confidence. 


Rose  and  Rudolf  do  not  Return     131 

Myles  sat  staring  at  the  table-cloth,  and  he 
cast  about  in  his  mind  for  something  to  say 
which  would  give  him  a  clue  to  his  thoughts. 

"Is  it  your  intention  to  remain  on  at 
Waldhof?"  he  asked  presently. 

Myles  started.     He  had  forgotten  Charles. 

"Remain  on  at  Waldhof?  Yes.  You 
don't  want  to  go  away,  do  you?  You  've 
only  just  begun  the  Cure." 

Charles  asked  no  more  questions.  He  knew 
enough  of  Myles  to  realise  that  whatever 
plans  he  had  in  his  head  he  would  develop 
according  to  his  own  methods. 

Charles  did  not  wish  to  leave  Waldhof. 
There  was  the  Cure,  and  his  new  suit  of 
clothes,  and  a  variety  of  small  interests  in 
view.  He  did  not  like  to  have  his  plans  upset. 
It  would  be  best  to  leave  Myles  to  manage 
his  business  in  his  own  way. 

He  gathered  up  his  little  heap  of  flannel 
patterns  and  rose  from  the  table. 

"I  have  some  letters  to  write,  and  I  will 
go  to  my  own  room,"  he  said.  "The  music 
and  noise  downstairs  in  the  evening  are  very 
distracting." 

Myles  sat  on  for  a  few  minutes  longer. 
Vilma  and  her  party  were  leaving  the  Saal, 
and  he  did  not  wish  to  be  mixed  up  with  them. 


132        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

He  thought  he  had  given  them  plenty  of  time 
to  scatter;  but  when  he  came  out  on  to  the 
steps,  he  found  several  men  lounging  about 
smoking,  and  Vilma,  with  her  back  to  him, 
was  talking  vivaciously. 

He  paused  unobserved  in  the  shadow  of 
the  doorway.  He  was  an  excellent  German 
scholar  and  he  understood  perfectly  well  what 
she  was  saying. 

She  was  coupling  together  the  names  of 
Rudolf  Scholan  and  Mrs.  Trevor,  and  drawing 
conclusions  from  their  absence .  She  possessed 
a  cynical  glibness  of  speech  which  had  earned 
her  a  character  for  saying  smart  things.  Some- 
times they  were  amusing;  sometimes  they 
were  only  spiteful.  The  sarcasm  of  her  re- 
marks on  Rudolf's  reputation  for  gallantry 
called  forth  a  protest  from  an  officer  who  was 
standing  near.  He  was  a  personal  friend  of 
Rudolf's,  and  from  his  standpoint  defended 
him  with  the  tolerance  which  he  considered 
his  due.  The  speakers  lost  sight  of  the  broad- 
ness of  their  views  in  the  heat  of  argument. 
Vilma  shrugged  her  shoulders  superciliously. 
Was  not  Rudolf  in  the  wildest  set  in  Vienna? 
she  repeated.  Were  not  his  love  affairs 
and  his  hairbreadth  escapes  the  wonder  of 
Society? 


Rose  and  Rudolf  do  not  Return     133 

She  scoffed  and  laughed,  twisting  meanings 
this  way  and  that. 

To  hear  Rose's  name  brought  into  this  con- 
versation infuriated  Myles.  To  think  that 
even  casually  it  should  be  associated  with  the 
talk  lightly  bandied  from  mouth  to  mouth 
was  intolerable.  With  the  fastidiousness  of 
a  more  than  usually  fastidious  nature,  he  had 
the  Englishman's  deeply  rooted  prejudice 
against  hearing  his  women-kind  discussed  in 
public.  He  was  disgusted  as  well  as  angry. 

He  turned  back  into  the  restaurant  and  left 
it  again  by  another  door  which  led  out  into 
the  garden.  He  walked  backwards  and  for- 
wards, up  and  down  the  wet  pathway.  His 
anger  cooled,  but  he  was  conscious  of  a  vague 
uneasiness.  His  mind  continually  reverted 
to  the  fact  that  Rudolf  Sholan  and  Rose  had 
been  the  last  of  the  party  to  start  on  the  home- 
ward journey,  and  the  Frau  Hauptman,  when 
she  rejoined  the  others,  had  given  no  explana- 
tion as  to  why  she  had  left  her  companions 
behind.  He  had  no  grounds  for  thinking  that 
they  had  not  returned  safely.  He  would  like 
to  have  made  inquiries,  but  he  shrank  from 
doing  so.  Why  should  he  start  an  inquiry? 
It  might  be  resented. 

The  wet  garden  was  dark  and  cheerless,  and 


134        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

he  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  but  his  pipe  was 
not  there.  He  remembered  that  he  had  left 
it  in  his  own  room,  and  went  in  search  of  it. 

The  Schloss  was  a  rambling  old  place,  badly 
lit  even  in  the  daytime,  and  at  night  it  was 
not  difficult  to  mistake  one  passage  for  another. 
He  was  suddenly  brought  up  with  a  start  to 
find  that  he  had  taken  a  wrong  turning,  and 
was  in  a  part  of  the  building  which  was  strange 
to  him.  He  turned,  and  was  going  back  when 
he  heard  a  sound  which  arrested  his  attention. 
It  was  the  sound  of  a  child  sobbing,  and  it 
came  from  a  door  which  stood  ajar,  not  many 
paces  from  where  he  stood. 

There  was  something  peculiarly  plaintive 
in  the  sound.  It  was  as  if  the  child  had  sobbed 
itself  into  a  state  of  hopeless  misery  which 
nothing  could  appease.  Was  the  child  alone, 
he  wondered?  He  felt  that  he  could  not  pass 
on  without  finding  out  what  it  meant.  He 
took  a  few  steps  back  towards  the  door,  and 
at  the  same  moment  it  was  thrown  open  and 
Leopoldina  came  out  hurriedly. 

Her  usually  placid  face  showed  signs  of 
distress,  and  she  glanced  this  way  and  that 
with  a  helpless  expression  of  uncertainty. 
Catching  sight  of  the  Englishman,  she  ran  up 
to  him  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 


Rose  and  Rudolf  do  not  Return     135 

At  first  Myles  failed  to  grasp  the  meaning 
of  what  she  was  saying.  She  was  excited, 
and  lapsed  so  frequently  into  her  local  patois 
that  she  was  almost  unintelligible.  The  re- 
peated reiteration  of  her  mistress's  name,  her 
gesticulations  and  signs  toward  the  room  she 
had  just  left,  gave  him  the  impression  that 
she  was  appealing  to  him  for  help. 

He  followed  her  to  the  door. 

"Has  your  mistress  not  returned?"  he 
asked  in  German,  pausing  on  the  threshold. 

The  girl  shook  her  head  vigorously,  and 
pointed  through  the  window  in  the  direction 
of  the  distant  hills. 

At  the  sound  of  Myles 's  voice  a  little  hud- 
dled heap  which  lay  buried  amongst  the  pillows 
of  the  bed  in  the  far  corner  of  the  room  sprang 
up,  and  a  tear-stained  face  was  turned  towards 
him.  There  was  a  sharp  cry  of  "Muwer," 
and  by  the  light  of  the  solitary  candle  he  saw 
Benjie  running  across  the  uncarpeted  boards. 

"Muwer — where  's  muwer?"  rang  out  the 
cry.  "I  seed  you  take  her  away.  Where's 
muwer?" 

Myles  bent  down  and  lifted  the  child  in  his 
arms.  The  quivering  of  the  little  body  as  it 
clung  to  him,  and  the  clasp  of  the  little  hands 
round  his  neck,  thrilled  him  strangely.  Tears 


136        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

had  blistered  red  patches  on  the  rounded 
cheeks,  and  the  wide-opened  eyes  were  burn- 
ing with  excitement. 

He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 

" It 's  all  right,"  he  said.  "  Mother  's  com- 
ing back  soon." 

His  voice  was  wonderfully  gentle.  The 
strong  arms  which  encircled  him  gave  Benjie 
a  feeling  of  indescribable  comfort. 

"Muwer,  muwer,"  he  sobbed,  but  some- 
thing of  the  strain  of  misery  had  died  out  of 
his  voice. 

"Yes,  it  's  all  right.  You  listen  to  me  and 
don't  cry." 

"I  'm  Hshenin' — But  it 's  muwer  I  want. 
I  seed  her  go  away.  You  tooked  her."  Sobs 
broke  out  afresh. 

"And  I  'm  going  to  bring  her  back  again." 

At  the  absolute  confidence  of  the  tone, 
Benjie  loosened  his  hold  and  held  up  his  head. 

"When  are  you  goin'  to  bring  her  back?" 

"As  soon  as  you  stop  crying.  Mother 
would  be  very  unhappy  if  she  knew  you  were 
awake  and  crying  like  this,  would  n't  she?" 

Benjie  gulped  and  tried  to  swallow  his  tears. 

"That's  right,"  said  Myles,  cheerfully. 
"You  11  go  to  sleep,  and  when  you  wake  up 
mother  will  be  here." 


Rose  and  Rudolf  do  not  Return     137 

Benjie  caught  hold  of  his  collar  and  scanned 
his  face  searchingly. 

"You  promise  quite  sure?"  he  said. 

"Quite  sure." 

The  small  face  puckered  anxiously. 

"  Muwer  always  promises  sings  wis  a  kiss." 

Myles  stooped  his  head. 

"Very  well,  I  '11  promise  the  same  as  mother. 

Benjie  rubbed  his  cheek  with  the  back  of  his 
hand,  and  slipping  from  the  arms  which  held 
him,  burrowed  down  amongst  the  bedclothes. 

"I  '11  be  good,"  he  said,  laying  his  head  on 
the  pillow.  I  'm  not  cryin'.  I  'm  shuttin'  my 
eyes  very  tight;  'member,  you  Ve  promised. 

"All  right,  I  '11  keep  my  promise,"  answered 
Aiyles.  He  was  leaving  the  room  when  a 
quavering  voice  called  after  him. 

"Please,  please,  may  I  has  Curly  Kate?  I 
can't  go  to  sleep  wisout  Curly  Kate." 

Myles  came  back. 

"What 's  that?"  he  asked. 

Benjie  pointed  to  the  table. 

"Muwer  always  gives  me  Curly  Kate.  I 
can't  go  to  sleep  wisout  Curly  Kate." 

Myles  laughed,  and  laid  the  battered  old 
doll  beside  him. 

"There  now.  You'll  sleep  like  a  top." 
And  he  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MYLES  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

/y/IYLES  had  no  intention  of  raising  an 
*  •  *  alarm.  Whilst  he  had  been  soothing  the 
frightened  child  his  brain  had  been  working 
rapidly,  and  before  leaving  the  room  he  had 
decided  what  he  intended  to  do. 

The  fact  that  Rudolf  was  also  missing  re- 
assured him.  Under  certain  conditions  Rudolf 
might  be  what  Vilma  said  he  was,  but  Myles 
felt  pretty  certain  that  he  was  to  be  trusted. 
If  some  accident  had  occurred,  he  was  quite 
capable  of  rising  to  an  emergency. 

Many  conjectures  flashed  through  his  mind 
as  to  what  might  have  happened.  The  path 
in  some  places  was  in  a  very  bad  state,  and 
the  torrential  rain  that  had  fallen  had  perhaps 
caused  a  temporary  breakdown.  He  hoped; 
that  it  was  nothing  more  serious,  but  the  idea 
of  an  accident  haunted  him  whilst  he  was! 
making  his  few  preparations  to  start  on  the 
climb  up  the  Thai. 

138 


Myles  Makes  a  Discovery        139 

He  decided  to  go  alone.  He  was  habitually 
self-reliant,  but  in  this  case  would  most  likely 
have  asked  some  one  to  accompany  him  had 
not  Vilma's  spiteful  remarks  rankled.  He 
attached  no  meaning  to  what  she  had  said,  but 
gossip  flew  like  wildfire  in  a  small  community. 

He  always  kept  himself  in  good  training. 
The  climb,  which  had  taken  two  hours  in  the 
morning,  when  there  had  been  no  reason  to 
hurry,  could  be  done  in  half  that  time.  He 
provided  himself  with  a  stout  alpenstock  and 
his  flask,  into  which  he  put  some  brandy  and 
water.  As  he  passed  through  the  old  stone 
hall  he  picked  up  a  small  lantern  which  stood 
on  a  ledge  by  the  door.  He  had  often  noticed 
it  standing  there,  and  he  looked  to  see  if  there 
was  a  candle  in  it. 

The  night  seemed  very  dark  as  he  went  out, 
but  as  he  left  the  lights  of  the  hotel  behind 
him  his  eyes  grew  accustomed  to  the  gloom. 
The  roar  of  the  stream  thundering  down  the 
deep  gorge  would  have  been  guide  sufficient 
to  give  him  his  bearings. 

The  storm  had  again  gathered:  the  rain 
lashed  in  his  face  and  the  wind  whistled  past 
his  ears.  The  rapid  movement,  the  sup- 
pressed excitement  under  which  he  was 
labouring,  sent  the  blood  tingling  through  his 


140        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

veins.  When  he  came  to  the  bank  above  the 
spot  where  the  stream  had  to  be  crossed,  he 
calculated  that  he  had  done  about  half  the 
distance,  and  he  had  discovered  nothing.  He 
knew  that  he  had  not  diverged  from  the  path ; 
they  must  still  be  on  the  other  side  of  the 
bridge. 

The  descent  down  to  the  water's  edge  was 
a  case  of  trusting  to  luck,  as  the  darkness 
about  his  feet  was  dense.  Once  he  left  level 
ground,  he  probed  it  with  his  alpenstock  and 
advanced  cautiously  step  by  step.  The 
flooded  stream  threw  up  blinding  volumes  of 
spray  as  it  raced  past,  but  the  gloom  in  the 
gorge  was  so  deep  that  he  could  not  see  the 
water,  though  the  noise  of  it  was  deafening. 
According  to  his  calculations,  he  ought  to  be 
able  to  touch  the  supports  of  the  bridge  almost 
from  where  he  was  standing.  On  his  way  up 
that  morning  he  had  noticed  the  beams  sunk 
deeply  into  the  banks  on  either  side.  Still 
probing,  he  struck  wood,  and  he  knew  that  he 
must  be  standing  close  to  the  brink  of  the  water. 
It  was  not  so  dark  but  that  some  faint  outline 
of  the  bridge  ought  to  be  visible;  he  strained 
his  eyes,  but  was  only  conscious  of  blank  space, 
and  when  he  waved  his  stock  from  side  to  side 
it  did  not  come  into  contact  with  anything. 


Myles  Makes  a  Discovery         141 

He  moved  a  few  steps,  and  crouching  down 
on  the  ground  with  his  back  to  the  wind  he 
lit  the  lantern,  sheltering  it  under  cover  of 
his  coat.  Then  he  crept  to  the  edge  of  the 
bank. 

The  flame  flickered  feebly  at  first,  then 
flashed  up  with  a  sudden  spurt,  and  threw  a 
line  of  light  across  the  boiling  surface  of  the 
stream. 

The  bridge  was  gone!  Almost  at  his  feet 
the  rotting  beams  which  had  held  it  to  the 
bank  showed  their  jagged  ends  above  the 
white  foam  which  swirled  round  them.  He 
waved  the  lantern  high  and  low.  Not  a  sign 
of  wreckage  was  visible,  but  out  in  mid-stream 
a  shape  loomed  black  and  unfamiliar. 

He  wondered  if  his  eyesight  was  playing  him 
false.  He  had  no  recollection  of  having 
noticed  a  mass  of  rock  there  before,  and  it  lay 
exactly  in  the  line  of  where  the  bridge  had 
been.  Then  in  a  flash,  puzzled  surprise 
changed  to  horror.  He  knew  what  had  hap- 
pened. There  had  been  a  landslip.  From 
what  height  it  had  fallen  or  what  awful  de- 
vastation it  had  carried  in  its  wake  he  could 
not  tell,  for  the  opposite  bank  was  indistin- 
guishable. Try  as  he  could  to  pierce  the 
gloom,  he  was  met  by  a  wall  of  blackness. 


142        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Sickening  possibilities  presented  themselves. 
The  landslip  must  have  happened  whilst 
Rudolf  and  Rose  were  descending  the  path. 
Had  they  been  caught  unawares  and  swept 
off  the  face  of  the  cliff,  or  had  they  been 
trapped  on  the  other  side  of  the  devastating 
line  and  made  their  way  back  to  the  restau- 
rant? These  two  questions  surged  in  his 
brain.  Once  more  he  flashed  the  lantern. 
And  its  light  fell  on  the  angry  tumult  of  foam 
and  lashing  waters.  To  attempt  to  cross  to 
the  other  side  was  impossible.  He  lowered 
his  arm  as  a  cloud  of  spray  swirled  over  his 
head,  and  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes  to 
brush  off  the  drops  of  wet.  When  he  looked 
again,  it  was  with  startled  surprise.  A  flame 
of  fire  had  suddenly  sprung  out  from  the  op- 
posite bank.  It  danced  for  a  few  seconds 
against  the  inky  darkness,  and  then  vanished ; 
it  was  gone  before  he  could  be  certain  that  the 
thing  had  really  happened.  He  waved  the 
lantern  above  his  head  and  shouted,  but  with 
the  noise  of  the  water  beating  in  his  ears  he 
could  hear  no  answering  voice. 

"I  hope  to  God  it  means  that  she  's  safe." 
He  used  the  single  pronoun  unconsciously. 

Unaided  he  could  do  nothing;  he  must  go 
back  to  Waldhof  and  procure  help. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CONCERNING  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  RUDOLF  AND 
ROSE 

DUDOLF  and  Rose  were  quite  twenty 
*  ^  minutes  behind  the  others  in  starting 
from  the  restaurant. 

Rose  lost  some  time  in  scolding  Rudolf  for 
his  duplicity  regarding  the  wife  of  the  Herr 
Hauptman,  but  it  was  a  waste  of  time  and 
words.  She  scolded  in  vain. 

"It  was  necessary  that  I  make  her  to  run 
away,"  he  repeated  unblushingly. 

When  she  suggested  that  if  they  hurried 
they  might  overtake  the  others,  he  did  not 
respond  with  alacrity. 

"But  why  ?  There  is  no  necessity  to  hasten. 
It  is  more  quick  to  descend  a  mountain  than 
to  climb  to  the  top  of  it." 

They  had  only  just  started,  when  a  child 
ran  out  from  the  back  of  the  house  and  held 
up  to  them  a  dish  full  of  wild  strawberries. 

743 


144        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

She  was  a  quaint  little  creature,  in  a  long 
skirt  which  almost  hid  her  bare  feet,  and  her 
sun-bleached  hair  was  brushed  tightly  back 
and  hung  in  a  thickly  pleated  pigtail  to  below 
her  waist.  She  bobbed  a  curtsy,  and  said 
something  shyly  to  Rudolf. 

"She  asks  us  to  buy  the  Erdbeeren.  Would 
you  like  them?" 

''They  would  please  my  little  boy,"  said 
Rose.  "How  can  we  carry  them?  They 
would  all  jump  out  of  that  dish." 

"But  I  will  return  and  seek  for  something 
better  in  which  to  carry  them,"  answered 
Rudolf.  He  took  the  child's  hand,  and  she 
trotted  along  with  him  as  he  went  back  to 
the  restaurant.  • 

He  was  away  for  so  long  that  Rose  regretted 
having  expressed  a  desire  to  have  the  straw- 
berries. She  did  not  wish  to  be  late  in  getting 
back.  Benjie  would  probably  refuse  to  be 
put  to  bed  until  she  returned. 

When  Rudolf  at  length  reappeared,  he  was 
full  of  apologies  for  having  kept  her  waiting. 
He  carried  the  strawberries  in  a  little  basket. 

"The  Hausfrau  gave  it  to  me,"  he  explained. 
"But  I  had  to  make  much  love  to  her." 

Once  fairly  started  on  their  way,  they  found 
that  the  descent  was  more  difficult  than  they 


Adventures  of  Rudolf  and  Rose    145 

had  expected.  The  pathway  had  almost  dis- 
appeared ;  it  was  little  else  than  a  slush  of  sand 
and  gravel  and  running  water.  Scrambling, 
sliding,  slipping,  they  at  last  came  in  sight  of 
the  bridge.  Rose  paused  and  looked  down  at 
the  spot  where  she  and  Myles  had  rested  on 
their  way  up,  and  saw  that  the  water  was 
already  creeping  round  the  pine  logs  on  which 
they  had  sat.  The  path  took  a  slanting  curve 
past  the  bridge,  and  then  zigzagged  back  at 
sharp  angles  down  the  cliff  side.  At  the  turn 
of  one  angle  the  bank  appeared  very  treacher- 
ous, and  she  looked  round  for  Rudolf,  who  had 
helped  her  over  every  difficulty. 

He  was  standing,  gazing  upwards  to  where 
a  volley  of  loose  stones  had  fallen  the  moment 
before.  He  appeared  to  be  listening. 

"  It  is  thunder, ' '  said  Rose.     ' '  I  hear  it . " 

He  held  up  his  hand,  and  the  quick  move- 
ment gave  her  a  warning  of  coming  danger. 
He  glanced  above  and  below,  measuring  as  it 
were  every  inch  of  the  ground,  then  he  sprang 
down  to  where  she  was  standing. 

"An  avalanche!"  he  exclaimed.  "Quick! 
We  must  cross  the  river  before  it  catch 
us." 

How  he  managed  to  get  his  companion 
down  the  cliff  side  in  the  time  he  did  was  a 


146        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

triumph  of  strength  and  nerve.  He  never 
made  a  mistake;  he  never  put  a  foot  wrong, 
and  she  trusted  him  blindly. 

They  gained  the  level  ground  and  raced 
for  the  bridge.  Once  across  it  they  would  be 
comparatively  safe. 

"We  will  do  it!"  cried  Rose  excitedly. 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  her  mouth 
when  Rudolf  threw  his  arms  round  her  and 
dragged  her  back. 

"It  is  upon  us!" 

He  flung  her  under  the  shelving  slope  of  the 
bank  and  knelt  over  her,  trying  to  shelter  her 
with  his  body  from  the  hail  of  stones  and 
gravel  which  rattled  all  round  them. 

The  crash  of  falling  timber  and  the  heavy, 
sullen  roar  sounded  ominously  near.  On  it 
came — a  huge  mass  ploughing  its  way  down- 
wards to  the  steep  ridge  overhanging  the  Thai. 
Would  it  sweep  to  one  side,  or  overwhelm 
them?  That  was  the  terrible  question  which 
hung  in  the  balance  during  those  few  seconds 
of  breathless  suspense. 

There  was  a  terrific  shock  and  the  grinding 
crash  of  rock  striking  rock.  The  great  mass 
had  hurled  itself  into  mid-stream  and  lay 
broken  and  shattered  by  the  impetus  of  its 
fall.  The  water  rose  into  the  air  like  a  water- 


Adventures  of  Rudolf  and  Rose   147 

spout,  and  then  fell  hissing  back  in  showers  of 
foam  and  spray. 

"Gott  sei  dank!"  cried  Rudolf,  springing 
to  his  feet.  "We  are  saved!" 

The  danger  was  past.  They  were  safe,  but 
they  were  trapped.  The  bridge  was  gone. 
It  had  been  smashed  into  matchwood  and 
borne  out  of  sight,  and  the  pathway  down 
which  they  had  come  had  been  swept  away. 

Rose  did  not  at  first  take  in  the  full  mean- 
ing of  their  plight.  Rudolf  had  stood  between 
her  and  the  danger.  She  looked  over  his 
shoulder  and  saw  what  had  happened. 

"The  bridge!"  she  cried,  aghast.  "It  has 
gone!" 

"But  we  are  alive,"  he  answered.  "What 
matters  all  else?  It  has  been  a  great  escape. 
We  might  have  wakened  up  to  find  that  we 
were  dead." 

He  stepped  out  from  the  bank.  Heavy 
drops  of  rain  were  beginning  to  fall,  the  storm 
was  gathering  again. 

"It  is  necessary  that  we  seek  for  some 
shelter,"  he  said.  Even  as  he  spoke  a  glare 
of  lightning  flamed  overhead,  followed  by  a 
crash  of  thunder,  and  down  swept  the  rain  in 
torrents. 

"Oh,  let  us  go  on!"  said  Rose.     "We  must 


148        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

get  back  to  Waldhof.  I  don't  mind  the 
storm." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"It  is  altogether  impossible  to  return  to 
Schloss  Waldhof  except  that  we  cross  the 
water.  On  this  side  there  is  no  road." 

"But  what  are  we  to  do?"  she  asked  in 
alarm.  "We  cannot  get  back  to  the  restau- 
rant. The  path  is  gone." 

"When  we  do  not  return  some  one  will 
come  to  seek  for  us. 

She  still  protested. 

"Even  if  they  do  come,  how  are  they  to 
help  us?  If  we  cannot  cross,  they  cannot." 

Rudolf  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"If  they  have  intelligence  they  will  find  out 
a  way.  Liebe  Frau,"  he  added  earnestly, 
"I  will  guard  you  so  that  no  harm  comes  to 
you.  There  is  a  shelter  near  where  you  will 
be  safe.  It  is  where  the  woodmen  live  when 
they  work  in  the  forest.  I  take  you  there." 

The  narrow  strip  of  ground,  where  the  fallen 
timber  was  piled,  ran  for  a  short  distance 
along  the  side  of  the  stream,  then  ended  ab- 
ruptly, blocked  by  the  cliff  which  jutted  out 
into  the  water. 

He  pointed  upwards. 

A  rough  wooden  hut  was  built  into  a  deep 


Adventures  of  Rudolf  and  Rose    149 

cleft  running  back  into  the  rock.  It  was  over- 
shadowed by  the  trees,  and  was  almost  the 
colour  of  its  surroundings,  but  Rudolf's  sharp 
eyes  had  noticed  it  in  passing. 

They  climbed  up  to  it  by  rude  steps  cut  in 
the  bank,  and  found  that  the  door  was  un- 
barred. It  pushed  open  easily  and  they 
peered  in.  The  earthen  floor  was  dry,  and 
there  was  a  rough  bench  at  one  side;  a  few 
tools  were  heaped  in  a  corner. 

Rose  sank  down  on  the  bench.  It  was 
something  to  feel  that  the  ground  under  her 
feet  was  firm,  for  there  had  been  a  horrible 
feeling  of  insecurity  about  that  crumbling 
bank  below.  She  watched  Rudolf  making  a 
careful  examination  of  the  place,  and  there  was 
not  an  inch  of  it  he  did  not  inspect. 

"What  are  you  looking  for?"  she  asked. 

"I  look  to  find  some  way  to  make  a  light. 
It  may  be  that  the  darkness  comes  before  we 
are  discovered." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!  How  dreadful!  And 
there  is  nothing?" 

He  took  out  his  match-box  and  opened  it. 
There  were  only  three  matches.  He  put  it 
quickly  back  again,  but  not  before  she  had  seen. 

"What  time  is  it  now,  Herr  Baron?"  Her 
voice  sounded  depressed. 


150        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"It  approaches  the  hour  of  seven.  Are 
you  hungry?  Ah!  the  Erdbeeren."  He  put 
the  basket  of  wild  strawberries  on  the  bench 
beside  her.  "I  fear  they  make  but  a  poor 
supper." 

How  he  had  managed  to  save  them  was  a 
marvel,  but  they  were  shaken  into  the  con- 
sistency of  jam.  She  made  a  pretence  of 
eating  to  please  him.  He  was  so  genuinely 
distressed  on  her  account.  She  realised  that 
this  gay,  light-hearted  boy,  for  he  was  little 
else,  had  two  sides  to  his  character.  Just  now 
he  was  the  trusted  companion;  thoughtful, 
considerate,  the  essence  of  chivalry,  thinking 
only  of  what  he  could  do  to  make  her  position 
more  bearable.  Unfastening  his  military 
overcoat,  which  was  strapped  across  his 
shoulders,  he  arranged  it  on  the  hard  bench 
so  as  to  make  a  more  comfortable  seat. 

She  smiled  up  at  him. 

"Thank  you.  What  good  care  you  take 
of  me!"  Then  she  added:  "Do  you  really 
think  they  will  come  and  look  for  us?  Per- 
haps they  won't  discover  that  we  are  missing." 

"Of  a  certainty  they  will  come,"  answered 
Rudolf,  cheerfully.  "I  sit  here  and  look  for 
them";  and  he  squatted  down  by  the  open 
door  like  a  watch-dog  on  duty. 


Adventures  of  Rudolf  and  Rose    151 

His  hopefulness  was  a  good  deal  assumed: 
it  was  highly  probable  that  they  would  have 
to  remain  where  they  were  for  an  indefinite 
time.  The  suggestion  that  their  absence 
might  not  be  discovered  was  possible,  for -it 
would  be  taken  for  granted  that  they  had  re- 
turned a  little  later  than  the  rest  of  the  party, 
and  if  they  did  not  appear  at  supper  it  would 
not  cause  alarm.  Supper  at  Schloss  Waldhof 
was  an  informal  meal,  and  people  came  and 
went  as  they  pleased. 

To  remain  inactive  was  not  to  Rudolf's 
liking,  but  he  had  no  alternative.  He  carried 
a  very  level  head  on  his  shoulders,  and  he  had 
no  intention  of  risking  the  safety  of  his  com- 
panion by  an  attempt  either  to  cross  the  stream 
without  help,  or  to  fight  away  to  Waldhof 
through  the  storm  and  darkness.  It  was  a 
case  of  waiting  until  help  came,  and  the  nearer 
they  remained  to  the  scene  of  the  disaster  the 
better. 

They  sat  on  patiently,  watching  the  light 
fade,  and  Rudolf  talked  to  keep  his  compan- 
ion's spirits  from  flagging. 

The  storm  seemed  to  be  working  round 
them  in  a  circle  and  was  never  silent  for  long. 
Every  few  minutes  the  lightning  flared  along 
the  dark  sides  of  the  Thai,  and  lit  up  the 


152        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

surface  of  the  water  and  the  wild  tossing 
branches  of  the  pine  trees  which  crowned 
the  ridge  on  the  opposite  bank.  Above  the 
din  of  the  hurrying  flood  the  thunder  echoed 
from  rock  to  rock. 

In  spite  of  Rudolf's  hopefulness,  Rose  felt 
that  the  prospect  was  not  cheering.  Men- 
tally and  physically  the  day  had  strained  her 
nerves.  She  tried  valiantly  to  respond  to  his 
efforts;  he  looked  so  distressed  when  she  did 
not. 

"What  is  that  sound  we  hear?"  she  said, 
rousing  herself.  "Like  bells — a  great  many 
bells,  all  ringing  together.  Listen!  It  seems 
to  come  up  from  the  valley." 

"But  yes.  It  is  the  peasants  ringing  the 
bells  in  the  churches." 

"Why  are  they  ringing  them?  It  cannot 
be  a  Festtag  in  this  storm?" 

Between  the  thunder  peals  and  above  the 
water's  roar,  rose  at  intervals  the  wild,  sweet 
jangle  of  bells.  The  sound  was  borne  this 
way  and  that  like  voices  crying  out  in  the 
storm. 

Rudolf  was  leaning  against  the  lintel  of  the 
door  with  his  arms  folded  across  his  chest. 
He  did  not  answer  at  once. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  she  repeated. 


Adventures  of  Rudolf  and  Rose   153 

"It  is  the  Angels  fighting  the  Devil,"  he 
answered  gravely. 

"  What  are  they  fighting  for?" 

"For  the  lives  of  men.  When  a  storm 
comes  in  these  mountains,  the  peasants  they 
say  the  Devil  walks  seeking  for  some  one  to 
kill." 

"But  the  bells?  What  have  they  got  to 
do  with  it?" 

"The  bells  are  the  Angels.  They  go  out 
into  the  storm  and  fight  with  the  Devil. 
When  the  Devil  hears  the  bells  he  is  afraid 
— he  hides  himself." 

"And  they  believe  that?  It  is  a  very  com- 
forting idea.  I  shall  always  think  of  it  now 
when  I  hear  the  bells  ringing  in  a  storm.  Do 
you  know  any  more  stories?  Tell  me  some." 
She  gave  a  little  shiver.  "Not  about — 
devils.  It  is  getting  so  dark.  Something 
cheerful." 

Rudolf  possessed  a  vivid  imagination  and 
a  fund  of  anecdotal  resource.  It  mattered 
little  whether  the  stories  he  told  were  true, 
or  superstitious  peasant  legends;  if  he  could 
amuse  her,  that  was  all  he  cared  for.  For 
two  long  hours  he  strove  to  lighten  the  tedium 
of  the  weary  watch,  and  when  it  grew  so  dark 
that  he  could  hardly  see  his  hand  in  front  of 


154        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

him,  his  voice  was  still  as  cheery  and  his  gaiety 
as  light  as  it  had  been  at  the  beginning  of  the 
day. 

Rose  spoke  seldom,  and  as  the  time  crept 
on  she  lapsed  more  and  more  into  silence. 
She  was  deadly  tired.  Her  head  felt  heavy 
and  stupid,  and  Rudolf's  voice  sounded  now 
near,  and  now  far  away;  at  times  she  lost  it 
entirely.  She  had  drifted  into  semi-uncon- 
sciousness when  something  roused  her  with  a 
start.  She  sat  up.  The  darkness  enveloped 
her  like  a  mantle,  and  everything  was  silent. 
She  no  longer  felt  Rudolf's  presence  near. 

"Where  are  you?"  she  cried.  Stumbling 
to  her  feet  she  groped  forward  with  out- 
stretched hands. 

His  voice  answered  from  outside  the  hut. 
In  another  instant  he  was  by  her  side. 

"A  light  has  appeared,"  he  said.  "It  is 
across  the  water.  Ah!  do  you  perceive?  It 
comes  once  more." 

"I  see!"  she  exclaimed.  "It  is  moving. 
Now  it  has  gone.  No — there  it  is  again !  Do 
you  think  it  is  a  signal — some  one  come  to 
look  for  us?  What  can  we  do?  " 

She  felt  Rudolf's  arm  brushed  against  her 
shoulder. 

"What  can  we  do?"  she  repeated,  almost 


Adventures  of  Rudolf  and  Rose   155 

shaking  him.  "How  can  we  send  them  back 
an  answer?" 

She  heard  him  laugh,  and  knew  that  his 
quick  brain  had  caught  some  happy  inspira- 
tion. 

"I  have  already  thought  of  how  to  do  such 
a  thing.  But  yes;  of  course  we  will  send 
them  a  message." 

Following  immediately  on  his  words  came 
a  crackling  sound  as  though  voluminous  sheets 
of  crisp  note-paper  were  being  rumpled  up. 
Then  the  scratching  of  a  match  and  the 
flicker  of  a  flame,  which  was  speedily  extin- 
guished by  the  wind. 

The  momentary  illumination  showed  Rudolf 
bending  down  in  the  act  of  striking  another 
match. 

"Oh  do,  do  be  careful!"  she  cried.  "Re- 
member that  you  have  only  three!" 

The  second  match  shared  the  fate  of  the 
first. 

"Wait.  Let  me  help.  I  will  hold  my 
skirt  so  as  to  keep  off  the  draught.  Now — 
try  once  more.  I  dare  hardly  breathe,"  she 
whispered.  "It  must  catch  this  time — it 
must!" 

"Bravo!"  exclaimed  Rudolf.  He  is  a  good 
one — he  lives!" 


156        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

The  spluttering  flame  of  the  third  match 
caught  an  end  of  paper,  and  the  crackling 
sheets  burst  into  a  blaze. 

The  little  beacon  fire  did  not  last  for  more 
than  a  few  seconds  and  died  down  as  suddenly 
as  it  had  risen.  They  leant  forward,  strain- 
ing their  eyes  to  pierce  the  darkness  and  see 
if  any  message  came  back  in  answer  to  their 
signal.  Rudolf  was  the  first  to  catch  sight  of 
a  small  speck  of  light.  It  was  not  stationary, 
but  was  waved  from  side  to  side. 

The  glow  from  the  charred  papers  showed 
him  the  outline  of  Rose's  figure.  He  caught 
her  hand  and  wrung  it  impulsively. 

"Have  no  longer  any  fear,  gnddige  Frau," 
he  cried.  "There  is  no  doubt  that  the  light 
is  a  signal  to  us." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?  It  has  gone 
again.  Perhaps  it  was  only  one  of  the  peas- 
ants, and  they  would  not  know  anything  about 
our  being  lost." 

"It  would  not  be  a  peasant,"  answered 
Rudolf,  emphatically.  ' '  They  carry  not  lights. 
They  have  eyes  like  cats  which  can  see  in  the 
darkness.  No,  it  was  some  one  who  seeks 
for  us.  It  may  be  that  they  return  to  Waldhof 
again  to  find  means  to  cross  the  water." 

"I  wonder  who  it  was?"  said  Rose. 


Adventures  of  Rudolf  and  Rose   157 

"Perhaps  it  was  the  Englishman,"  said 
Rudolf. 

He  spoke  carelessly,  but  Rose  knew  that 
the  same  thought  had  been  hers.  At  the 
back  of  her  mind,  subconsciously  as  it  were, 
the  idea  of  rescue  had  been  associated  with 
Myles.  She  did  not  express  her  thoughts. 

"How  fortunate  that  you  had  those  letters 
in  your  pocket.  I  hope  you  did  not  mind 
burning  them." 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Rudolf,  airily.  "  It 
was  the  letter  of  one  of  my  best  loving  girls 
which  I  receive  this  morning.  She  write  me 
six,  seven,  eight — oh,  many  large  pages!" 

He  stirred  the  smouldering  heap  of  burnt 
ash  with  the  toe  of  his  boot.  It  rose  up  in 
a  little  cloud  and  swirled  into  the  darkness 
and  storm. 

"It  is  not  often  that  one  finds  a  letter  so 
useful,"  he  remarked. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  CROSSING  OF  THE  THAL 

WATCHING  and  waiting,  the  hours  of  the 
short  summer  night  crept  on.  The 
bench  was  a  hard  couch,  and  Rudolf's  coat 
but  an  indifferent  pillow,  and  yet  towards 
dawn  Rose  slept. 

When  she  awoke  it  was  to  find  that  the 
morning  was  breaking.  Through  the  open 
door  a  square  of  grey  light  faced  her,  and 
raising  herself  stiffly  she  stared  at  it  with 
dazed  eyes.  How  long  had  she  slept,  she 
wondered?  She  was  alone;  there  was  no 
sign  of  Rudolf  anywhere. 

Her  head  felt  light  and  her  f;et  unsteady 
as  she  crossed  to  the  door  and  looked  out. 
The  air  was  very  still  and  the  rain  had  ceased ; 
she  could  hear  the  rush  of  the  water,  but  it 
no  longer  roared.  A  thick  mist  hung  like 
a  blanket  over  the  bed  of  the  stream  and 
blotted  out  all  landmarks.  The  mist  and 

158 


The  Crossing  of  the  Thai         159 

the  stillness  and  the  ghostly  light  gave  her 
an  eerie  feeling  of  unreality. 

There  was  something  inexpressibly  lonely 
in  the  quiet  of  the  grey  dawn  after  the  night 
of  stress  and  fierce  storm.  She  looked  up- 
wards and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  lacerated 
stretch  of  hillside  down  which  the  landslip 
had  torn  its  way.  She  gave  a  shudder. 
There  was  no  unreality  about  that. 

Where  was  Rudolf?  she  asked  herself,  un- 
easily. He  could  not  be  far  away,  for  he 
would  not  desert  her.  The  thought  was  in 
her  mind  to  call  out  to  him,  when  suddenly 
the  mist  parted  and  rolled  from  side  to 
side.  Shadowy  forms  were  distinguishable 
rising  from  out  the  wreaths  of  vapour, 
and  the  great  mass  of  rock  which  had  been 
hurled  into  the  stream  stood  out  black  and 
menacing. 

She  took  a  few  steps  down  the  bank  and 
then  stopped.  Some  one  was  coming  rapidly 
up  the  steep  ascent  to  meet  her.  It  was  not 
Rudolf.  It  was  Mr.  Egerton. 

He  took  both  her  hands  in  his  and  held  them 
for  a  moment. 

"I  am  so  very  glad  you  are  safe,"  he  said, 
and  the  tone  of  his  voice  expressed  more  than 
his  words. 


160        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

She  felt  that  she  could  have  laughed  aloud 
out  of  sheer  gratitude  and  relief. 

"We  thought  you  were  never  coming!" 

"  Ah !    You  thought  I  would  come  ? ' ' 

She  flushed  a  little  and  said  hastily: 

"It  was  Baron  Scholan  who  suggested  that 
perhaps  you  might.  How  did  you  get  across? 
and  was  it  you  who  waved  the  light  to 
us?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  is  Baron  Scholan?"  she  asked, 
trying  to  distinguish  objects  through  the 
mist.  "He  has  been  so  good.  You  can't 
think  how  kind  he  has  been." 

Myles  pointed  to  the  stream  below. 

"He  's  down  there,  working  with  the  men 
I  brought  with  me.  He  's  told  me  about  it. 
What  an  escape  you  had!  When  I  found 
the  bridge  gone  I  knew  what  had  happened. 
Yes,  it  was  my  light  you  saw,  but  I  had  to  go 
back  to  Waldhof  for  help,  and  then  we  had 
to  wait  on  the  other  side  for  a  bit.  Those 
peasant  fellows  who  came  back  with  me  said 
it  was  no  use  trying  to  cross  until  we  had  some 
light.  We  could  n't  tell,  you  see,  what  mis- 
chief the  landslip  had  done." 

"It  seemed  such  a  long  night,"  she  said — • 
"and  so  dark." 


The  Crossing  of  the  Thai         161 

"I  wish  I  had  found  out  that  you  were 
missing  earlier,  but — I  did  n't." 

He  was  going  to  have  said  something  about 
Benjie,  and  checked  himself.  It  would  only 
distress  her  to  hear  of  the  child's  misery. 

"But  how  did  you  get  across?"  she  said. 
"You  have  not  told  me.  It  is  so  thick  down 
there  I  can  see  nothing." 

"We  've  got  a  rope.  That  big  rock  out 
in  the  middle  helped  us.  One  of  the  men 
struggled  across  to  it  with  the  rope  round  his 
waist  and  found  some  wreckage  of  the  bridge. 
It  gave  him  something  to  keep  his  line  steady, 
and  the  rest  of  the  bit  was  easy.  On  the  side 
the  channel  is  all  silted  up  with  soil  and  broken 
timber;  rather  tricky,  but  all  right  if  you  look 
out  for  holes." 

A  shout  from  below  attracted  their  attention 
and  Rudolf's  head  and  shoulders  emerged 
from  the  mist.  He  called  to  them  that  they 
were  to  come  down.  Evidently  the  prepara- 
tions for  crossing  were  complete. 

"His  coat,"  said  Rose.  "It  is  in  the  hut. 
We  will  take  it  down  to  him." 

"I  will  fetch  it,"  said  Myles,  and  came 
back  with  the  coat  thrown  over  his  arm. 

Rose  touched  it,  and  smiled. 

"It  was  my  pillow  last  night." 


162        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Myles  said  nothing.  He  gave  her  his  hand 
to  help  her  down  the  bank,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  they  were  standing  on  the  stretch  of 
flat  ground  by  the  edge  of  the  stream. 

Rudolf  welcomed  Rose  with  a  cheerful 
"Good-morning."  He  was  smoking  one  of 
Myles's  cigarettes,  and  looked  as  fresh  as 
though  he  had  just  come  on  parade.  A  short 
distance  from  him  a  couple  of  stalwart  peas- 
ants were  working  at  a  rope  lashed  round  the 
stem  of  a  pine  tree;  the  rope  was  thick  and 
strong  and  swung  out  in  a  long  line  across 
the  water. 

"Well,"  said  Myles,  "I  think  we  'd  better 
make  a  start.  We  left  a  man  on  the  other 
side  to  see  that  the  rope  did  n't  strain,  so  I 
don't  think  there  's  any  fear  of  a  breakdown. 
You  talk  to  these  men,"  he  said  to  Rudolf. 
"  You  understand  their  patois.  See  what  they 
say  about  getting  Mrs.  Trevor  over  without 
a  wetting. 

The  two  men  were  magnificent  specimens 
of  the  young  Tyrolean  peasant.  There  was 
not  an  ounce  of  superfluous  flesh  on  their 
muscular,  well-knit  figures,  and  their  clear 
blue  eyes  and  deeply  bronzed  skins  told  of  the 
hardy  life  of  the  mountaineer. 

Rudolf  threw  away  his  cigarette,  and  an 


The  Crossing  of  the  Thai         163 

animated  discussion  followed.  One  man,  who 
had  a  little  tuft  of  white  feathers  at  the  back 
of  his  hat,  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height 
and  saluted  the  English  lady  with  grave 
politeness.  His  companion  looked  at  him  a 
little  enviously;  it  was  evident  that  Rudolf 
had  made  a  choice  between  the  two. 

Rudolf  rejoined  his  companions. 

"I  find  that  both  of  these  young  men  desire 
the  honour  of  carrying  Frau  Trevor  across 
the  water,  but  I  choose  the  one  with  the  white 
feathers  in  his  hat.  He  appears  to  me  the 
most  strong."  He  addressed  himself  to  Rose. 
"It  is  necessary  that  you  sit  on  his  shoulder 
and  put  your  arms  round  his  neck — so." 
And  he  embraced  the  air. 

He  beckoned  to  the  man,  who  came  for- 
ward, smiling. 

"Let  me  put  you  up,"  said  Myles.  "He  's 
a  pretty  tall  mount.  Hold  on  to  the  collar 
of  his  coat  and  give  me  your  foot.  Now," 
and  he  swung  her  lightly  on  to  the  man's 
shoulder.  "Don't  you  feel  safe?"  he  asked. 
Her  expression  as  she  looked  down  at  him 
was  not  happy. 

"No.  I  feel  horribly  unsafe,  and  if  I  hold 
tightly  round  his  neck  I  will  strangle  him." 

"Oh,  no,  you  won't;  he'll  take  a  lot  of 


1 64        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

strangling.  He  won't  be  out  of  his  depth 
on  this  side,  but  he  will  on  the  other  and  the 
current  's  running  strong.  You  must  hold 
tight." 

"I  wish  some  one  would  go  first." 

"  I  go,"  cried  Rudolf  promptly,  and  catching 
hold  of  the  rope  he  plunged  into  the  water. 
The  treacherous  bed  of  the  stream  was  full 
of  holes ;  more  than  once  he  almost  disappeared 
from  sight.  When  he  gained  the  rock  in  the 
middle  he  waved  his  arm  and  then  vanished 
behind  it;  the  next  they  saw  of  him  he  was 
clambering  up  the  bank  on  the  opposite  side. 

The  peasants  had  watched  him  with  broad 
smiles  of  amusement.  The  one  who  was 
to  carry  Rose  across  nodded  to  his  fellow 
and  grunted  out  something  at  which  Myles 
laughed. 

"Sounds  as  if  he  thought  he  could  go  one 
better.  Now,  do  you  think  you  will  venture  ? ' ' 

' '  Yes, ' '  she  answered . 

The  young  man  showed  her  how  to  hold  on 
to  him,  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  the  freedom 
of  his  arms.  He  folded  her  skirt  carefully 
round  her,  and  then,  with  great  deliberation, 
let  himself  down  into  the  water. 

The  flooded  stream,  which  in  the  black- 
ness of  the  night  had  seemed  an  insurmoun- 


The  Crossing  of  the  Thai         165 

table  difficulty,  lost  its  terrors  in  the  light  of 
the  summer  morning.  Rose  felt  the  broad- 
shouldered  figure  under  her  move  steadily, 
and  every  inch  of  ground  was  carefully  tested 
as  he  advanced  step  by  step.  The  half-way 
rock  was  reached,  and  then  she  saw  with  what 
force  the  current  was  running  in  the  channel 
between  them  and  the  bank  they  were  trying 
to  gain. 

"  Now  's  the  time  to  hold  on  tight  and  shut 
your  eyes,"  called  out  Myles,  reassuringly, 
from  close  behind. 

But  she  only  heard  the  noise  of  the  water 
beating  in  her  ears.  As  the  man  swung  out 
into  the  deep  channel  he  had  nothing  to  keep 
him  from  being  swept  downwards  except  his 
hold  on  the  rope,  and  for  a  few  breathless 
seconds  the  strain  was  intense.  It  was  a 
hand-over-hand  fight  against  the  current. 
Then  she  felt  his  body  stiffen.  He  had 
touched  ground  again.  She  was  conscious 
of  being  seized  by  Rudolf  and  lifted  bodily 
on  to  the  bank. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  turn  to  the  young 
peasant  and  hold  out  her  hand;  in  her  best 
German  she  tried  to  thank  him. 

Shaking  hands  was  not  a  custom  he  under- 
stood. He  raised  the  hand  to  his  lips  and 


1 66        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

kissed  it,  then  stood  back  to  shake  the  water 
which  was  dripping  from  his  clothes. 

.Myles  was  also  shaking  himself  dry  at  a 
respectful  distance.  He  made  some  remark 
to  Rudolf,  and  then  he  went  up  to  Rose. 

"I  'm  going  to  hurry  you  on,"  he  said. 

She  hesitated. 

"These  men  have  taken  so  much  trouble." 

"I  think  we  can  leave  them  to  young 
Scholan,"  he  answered.  "Come,  I  'm  sure 
you  ought  to  get  home  as  soon  as  you  can." 

She  went  back  a  few  steps  to  where  Rudolf 
was  standing. 

"How  can  I  ever  thank  you  enough  for 
having  taken  such  care  of  me?"  she  said. 
"I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  if 
you  had  not  kept  up  my  spirits." 

"It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  guard 
you,"  said  Rudolf,  gallantly.  "I  fear  you 
must  be  very  tired.  It  is  necessary  that  you 
now  go  away  to  rest.  I  speak  to  these  men, 
and  I  follow  quickly." 

With  the  excitement  of  the  adventure  over, 
Rose's  spirits  flagged.  She  was  utterly  ex- 
hausted, principally  from  want  of  food,  a  fact 
which  she  did  not  realise  until  she  had  gone 
some  little  way.  The  path  was  all  downhill, 
and  twisted  and  turned  like  a  corkscrew;  her 


The  Crossing  of  the  Thai         167 

head  began  to  swim  and  her  knees  to  shake 
under  her.  She  was  wondering  how  long  she 
could  keep  up  appearances  and  not  show  her 
exhaustion  when  she  stumbled  over  a  loose 
stone.  Before  Myles  had  time  to  put  out 
his  hand  to  help  her  she  reeled  back,  and 
would  have  fallen  had  not  her  shoulder  caught 
against  the  stem  of  a  tree.  She  smiled  faintly, 
trying  to  steady  herself,  but  the  look  of 
weariness  in  her  eyes  and  the  dark  circles 
under  them  told  their  own  tale. 

"What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  bring  some  food 
with  me!"  he  exclaimed  remorsefully;  "but 
I  have  this,"  and  he  felt  in  the  pocket  of  his 
coat  for  his  flask,  and  pouring  some  brandy 
and  water  into  the  cup  he  held  it  out  to  her. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"Never  mind,  drink  it." 

"Not  if  it  's  brandy.     I  hate  it." 

"Drink  it,"  he  repeated. 

She  drank  a  few  mouthfuls,  and  the  colour 
crept  slowly  back  into  her  cheeks. 

"Do  you  always  get  your  own  way?"  she 
asked. 

"If  you  collapse  I  shall  have  to  carry  you, 
and  you  won't  find  me  such  a  steady  mount 
as  that  good-looking  Tyrolean." 

He  emptied  out  the  few  drops  of  brandy 


1 68        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

that  remained  in  the  bottom  of  the  cup  and 
put  the  flask  back  in  his  pocket.  He  did  it 
very  slowly,  so  as  to  give  her  time  to  recover. 

"You  must  rest  a  few  minutes,"  he  said. 

"Rest!  Oh  no,  let  us  go  on.  I  can't  rest 
until  I  get  back  to  the  Schloss.  I  am  so  afraid 
Benjie  may  have  been  frightened." 

' '  Oh,  I  expect  he  's  all  right.  Five  minutes, ' ' 
he  said.  "After  that  you  may  start." 

She  looked  half -rebellious,  then  laughed 
a  little  nervously. 

"How  determined  you  are!" 

The  rest  of  the  way  was  traversed  almost 
in  silence,  and  Rudolf  did  not  overtake 
them. 

As  they  emerged  from  the  shelter  of  the 
trees  they  saw  the  old  Schloss  standing  out 
grim  and  impressive  against  the  pale  back- 
ground of  the  morning  sky;  its  shutters  were 
all  closed,  and  the  massive  doorway  was  shut 
and  barred. 

Rose  stopped  short  and  looked  at  Myles. 

"We  won't  be  able  to  get  in.  I  never 
thought  of  that." 

He  glanced  up  at  the  Clock  Tower. 

"Half -past  four.  That  is  not  early  for  a 
Tyrolean.  I  expect  we  '11  find  some  one 
awake.  I  '11  go  round  to  the  back  and  see. 


The  Crossing  of  the  Thai         169 

Will  you  wait  here?  I  wish  there  was  some 
place  for  you  to  sit  down." 

"Nothing  but  the  doorstep,"  she  answered. 
"But  I  'm  too  tired  to  care." 

"I  'm  so  sorry.  I  '11  be  as  quick  as  I  can. 
If  I  can't  get  in  any  other  way  I  '11  break  a 
window. 

He  disappeared  round  a  projecting  gable, 
and  Rose  resigned  herself  to  the  doorstep. 

It  was  a  lovely  summer  morning.  The 
storm  had  passed  completely  away,  leaving  a 
moist  sweetness  in  the  air.  The  birds  were 
bursting  their  little  throats  in  joyous  praise 
of  the  coming  day;  from  the  Thai  came  the 
sound  of  the  stream,  but  subdued  to  a  quiet 
murmur — its  anger  spent  and  broken. 

Rose  listened,  and  fell  to  wondering  if  the 
experiences  of  the  night  had  been  a  reality,  or 
only  a  troubled  dream.  She  was  very  sleepy. 
How  long  would  it  be  before  Myles  would 
open  the  door?  He  had  been  gone  only  a 

few  minutes,  and  yet She  started  to  her 

feet.  She  heard  the  drawing  back  of  a  bolt 
behind  her,  and  the  grating  of  a  key  being 
turned  in  the  lock. 

Panic  seized  her.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  he  could  have  had  time  to  rouse  the 
household.  It  was  not  he  who  was  opening 


170        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

the  door;  it  was  some  one  who  had  no  know- 
ledge of  what  had  happened.  She  would  have 
to  explain  why  she  came  to  be  standing  alone 
at  half -past  four  in  the  morning  on  the  door- 
step of  the  hotel,  with  every  appearance  of 
having  been  out  all  night. 

The  door  opened  very  quietly,  and  when 
she  saw  who  stood  behind  it  she  gave  a  cry 
of  joy. 

"Oh!  You  gave  me  such  a  fright!  I 
thought  it  was  some  one  else,"  she  said,  and 
stumbled  across  the  threshold. 

Not  much  light  flickered  through  the  iron- 
barred  windows  in  the  old  stone  hall,  and  she 
could  not  see  Myles's  face  distinctly,  but  she 
thought  he  was  a  very  long  time  in  fumbling 
with  the  fastening  of  the  door. 

"How  did  you  get  in?"  she  asked. 

He  dropped  the  bolt  into  its  place  and 
turned  to  her. 

"I  met  the  bath-woman.  She  was  carry- 
ing the  key  of  the  Schloss  in  one  hand,  and 
her  breakfast  in  the  other.  It  seems  that 
the  Herrschaften  begin  their  cure  about  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  so  she  has  to  be  up 
betimes.  She  has  some  underground  way  of 
getting  into  the  Schloss,  and  was  making  for 
it  when  I  happened  to  catch  her." 


The  Crossing  of  the  Thai         171 

"And  she  trusted  you  with  the  key?" 

"It  wasn't  a  case  of  trusting.  I  took  it. 
When  I  was  about  it,  I  thought  I  might  as 
well  save  her  the  trouble  of  eating  her  break- 
fast, so  I  brought  it  along  with  me.  Rather 
rough  fare,  but  the  best  I  could  do  for  you." 

"I  thought  I  smelt  coffee." 

From  the  window-ledge,  where  he  had  laid 
it  down,  he  brought  a  cup  and  saucer.  The 
cup  was  very  thick,  and  filled  to  the  brim 
with  hot,  strong  coffee;  balanced  on  the  edge 
of  the  saucer  was  a  slab  of  brown  bread. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  She  drank  the 
coffee  thirstily,  but  the  bread  she  declined. 
"I  cannot  eat." 

;'You  must,"  he  said,  in  the  same  tone  of 
voice  as  he  had  told  her  that  she  must  drink 
the  brandy. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"But  I  don't  want  it." 

He  seated  himself  on  the  side  of  the  table. 

"I  won't  let  you  go  up-stairs  until  you  have 
eaten  something.  You  have  n't  touched  food 
for  hours." 

"You  are  quite  the  most  obstinate  person 
I  have  ever  met,"  she  answered. 

He  regarded  her  gravely. 

"I  wish  you  would  not  call  me  that.    An 


172        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

obstinate  person  is  a  pig-headed  bore.  I  am 
only  trying  to  make  you  do  what 's  good  for 
you."  ' 

The  coffee  had  had  a  reviving  effect  upon 
her,  and,  dividing  the  bread  in  half,  she  offered 
him  one  of  the  pieces. 

"Will  you  share  it  with  me?" 

"That  is  only  a  way  of  shirking.  And 
you  are  offering  me  the  larger  share.  I 
wonder — — "  He  paused  for  a  moment. 
"I  wonder,  if  it  came  to  sharing  anything 
seriously,  which  of  us  would  be  the  more 
generous?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  possess  nothing  worth  sharing  with  any 
one." 

"That  depends.  What  one  person  counts 
worthless,  another  does  n't." 

She  drew  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  she 
had  eaten  her  piece  of  bread. 

"You  ought  to  feel  flattered,  for  I  am  very 
independent,  obstinate — pig-headed,  you  would 
call  it.  May  I  go  now? 

He  walked  with  her  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"Is  it  good-night  or  good-morning?" 

"Both  I  think." 

She  went  up  the  first  two  steps  and  then 
turned. 


The  Crossing  of  the  Thai          173 

He  had  not  moved. 

She  was  not  impulsive,  but  something 
prompted  her  to  go  back. 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  he  took  it. 

"Thank  you  very  much  for  all  that  you 
have  done  for  me,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "I 
am  not  ungrateful." 

And  she  was  gone  before  he  had  time  to 
think  of  an  answer. 


THE  CONGRATULATIONS  OF  THE  GESELLSCHAFT 

THE  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  before 
Rose  wakened  from  the  deep  sleep  into 
which  she  had  fallen  almost  as  soon  as  her 
head  touched  the  pillow. 

The  light  in  the  room  was  dim  when  she 
awoke,  for  the  Venetian  shutters  were  closed. 
She  was  not  aware  how  late  it  was,  until  her 
eyes  fell  on  the  small  travelling  clock  which 
stood  on  the  table  beside  her  bed,  and  she 
saw  that  it  was  past  mid-day.  It  was  a 
wonder  she  had  been  allowed  to  sleep  so  long. 
Leopoldina  had  had  much  difficulty  in  re- 
straining Benjie  from  wakening  her.  Having 
assured  himself  by  various  skirmishings  that 
the  Englishman  had  kept  his  promise,  and 
really  had  brought  his  mother  back,  he  had 
consented  to  eat  his  breakfast  and  allow  him- 
self to  be  taken  out  for  his  morning  walk. 

Rose  lay  for  some  time  without  stirring,, 
174 


Congratulations  of  the  Gesellschaft     175 

her  thoughts  going  drowsily  over  the  events 
of  the  previous  night.  She  was  roused  by 
hearing  some  one  moving  on  the  balcony, 
which  could  be  entered  from  the  corridor,  as 
well  as  from  her  own  room.  Thinking  it  was 
Leopoldina,  she  called  to  her  to  come  in. 

The  door  opened  and  Ilka  Rentier  appeared, 
her  figure  framed  against  a  background  of 
flowers.  The  balcony  seemed  to  be  smothered 
in  flowers.  They  were  laid  in  sprays  and 
bouquets  on  the  balustrade,  and  piled  on  the 
wooden  table,  filling  the  air  with  their  sweet- 
ness. An  enormous  bunch  of  crimson  and 
yellow  roses  was  propped  against  the  side  of 
the  door. 

Ilka  picked  up  the  bunch  of  roses,  and  step- 
ping into  the  room  cried  out  gaily : 

"  Are  you  already  awake?  But  yes!  Your 
eyes  are  open.  See  what  a  Garden  of  Paradise 
awaits  you!" 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  exclaimed  Rose. 
She  looked  towards  the  open  door  and  the 
flower-decked  balcony  and  nibbed  her  eyes. 
1 '  Am  I  dreaming  ? ' ' 

Ilka  laughed  at  her  perplexed  face,  and  laid 
the  roses  on  her  pillow. 

"It  is  joy,  my  friend.  The  Gesellschaft  of 
this  hotel,  and  the  officers  and  all — every  one, 


176        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

send  their  congratulations.  Last  night  you 
escaped  from  a  great  danger,  and  naturlich 
there  is  much  rejoicing." 

"I  must  have  been  sleeping  very  soundly 
not  to  hear  any  one  on  the  balcony." 

"But,  of  course,  we  all  walk  like  wicked 
ones  come  to  steal.  See,  I  will  bring  you 
some  of  these  good  wishes." 

She  ran  back  and  gathered  up  an  armful 
of  flowers  at  random,  and  then  perched  herself 
on  the  side  of  the  bed  with  the  bouquets 
spread  out  on  the  coverlet.  Tied  to  the  stems 
of  most  of  them  were  cards  bearing  the  names 
of  the  senders. 

"Now  we  will  see  who  loves  you  best. 
There  has  been  much  exercise  of  English 
this  morning,  and  the  dictionary  has  been 
very  busy.  Ah!  from  the  wife  of  the  Herr 
Hauptman.  I  do  not  admire  her  bouquet. 
On  her  card  she  has  written :  '  I  send  you  my 
kindest  relations.'  She  tossed  the  flowers 
aside  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders.  "It  is 
fortunate  such  a  tragedy  is  not  possible." 

Picking  up  a  bunch  of  Alpine  flowers  tied 
with  a  purple  ribbon,  she  frowned  as  the  name 
on  the  card  caught  her  eye. 

"Frau  Wolff!  I  do  not  like  the  familiarity 
of  such  a  person.  Listen  to  the  manner  in 


Congratulations  of  the  Gesellschaft    177 

which  she  addresses  you:  'You  will  keep 
this  in  memoriams  of  me.'  She  dropped 
the  bouquet  on  the  floor.  "That  is  the  place 
for  you,"  she  remarked  drily. 

Laughing  and  protesting,  Rose  caught  her 
hand. 

"You  must  not  throw  them  away,"  she 
said.  "I  am  deeply  touched  by  every  one's 
kindness.  I  never  thought  they  would  care." 
She  bent  over  the  bouquet  which  lay  on  her 
pillow.  "You  cannot  laugh  at  this.  And 
there  is  no  card.  Who  could  have  sent 
it?" 

Ilka  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"Such  roses  do  not  grow  at  Schloss  Waldhof. 
Rudolf  has  but  a  short  time  since  returned 

from  riding  very  fast.  So ' '  She  examined 

the  green  foliage  carefully.  "  No  letter — not 
one  single  word?  How  strange!" 

She  jumped  up  and  ran  out  again  on  to  the 
balcony. 

"From  every  one  a  greeting,  but  from  Vilma 
Seybell — no!"  she  cried,  and  returned  to  her 
perch  on  the  bed.  "Vilma  is  a  cat.  It 
pleases  me  to  repeat  that  many  times.  It  has 
been  told  to  me  that  last  evening  after  supper 
she  made  a  scandal  about  you." 

Rose  raised  herself  on  her  elbow. 


178        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"A  scandal?  How  could  she  make  a  scan- 
dal about  me?" 

"  Pouf!  Vilma  would  make  a  scandal  out 
of  the  hairs  of  her  own  head.  Last  night  you 
were  not  at  supper;  Rudi  also  was  not  at 
supper!  Vilma  makes  a  scandal — So." 

"Why  does  Baronin  Seybell  dislike  me?" 
asked  Rose. 

' '  Jealousy !  What  else  would  it  be  ?  Vilma 
has  one  fixed  idee.  She  wishes  to  marry, 
therefore  she  cannot  bear  for  a  man  to  look 
at  another  woman.  At  one  time  she  tried  to 
marry  Rudi.  Rudi  flirted  with  her,  of  course. 
At  first  he  thought  it  charming,  for  Vilma 
can  be  amusing  to  a  man.  Afterwards  he 
became  frightened.  He  come  to  me.  lLieb- 
ling,'  he  said,  'what  am  I  to  do?'  Then  I 
frighten  him  still  more.  '  If  you  marry  Vilma, ' 
I  say,  'she  will  wear  the  trewsers.  She  will 
keep  you  in  order,  and  it  will  be  very  good 
for  you  to  be  kept  in  order,  for  you  are  a  bad 
boy. '  I  told  him  a  few  other  things,  because, 
of  course,  I  did  not  wish  to  have  Vilma  for  a 
sister.  '  She  will  certainly  wear  the  trewsers, ' 
I  said.  Rudi  made  a  face — so."  Ilka  con- 
torted her  features  diabolically.  'Sacra- 
ment!' he  exclaimed.  'She  is  no  longer  for 
me.  I  step  away. ' 


Congratulations  of  the  Gesellschaft    179 

Rose  laughed.  "But  how  stupid  of  her 
to  be  jealous,"  she  said. 

"Then  again,  there  is  the  Englishman," 
continued  Ilka.  "Do  you  not  observe  how 
Vilma  conspires  to  catch  him?  But  where 
are  his  eyes?  My  husband  say  to  me  this 
morning:  '  Vilma  is  a  fool.  The  Englishman 
has  but  one  heart,  and  that  is  for  the  lady  of 
his  own  country. ' 

Rose  started  up. 

"Oh,  please  don't  say  that!"  she  exclaimed 
quickly.  "You  are  quite  wrong.  We  are 
not  even  friends.  We  are  always  disagreeing. '' 

Ilka  smiled  a  little  enigmatical  smile. 

"What  is  your  name?"  she  asked,  changing 
the  conversation,  with  her  usual  irrelevance. 
"  May  I  call  you  by  your  name?  Frau  Trevor 
is  so  rigorous." 

Rose  broke  off  one  of  the  flowers  from 
Rudolf's  bouquet  and  held  it  out  to  her. 

"Ah  so!"  exclaimed  Ilka.  "That  is  pot- 
tigue.  I  carry  you  near  my  heart,"  and  she 
fastened  the  rose  into  the  front  of  her  dress. 
"I  came  to  give  congratulations,  and  what  a 
lot  of  nonsense  I  talk.  Now  I  go  away  to, 
make  shoppings  in  the  village." 

"And  I  must  get  up  and  dress." 

Ilka  ran  back  again. 


i8o        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"This  evening  we  make  a.  fete  in  the  garden 
after  supper, ' '  she  explained.  "  It  is  to  rejoice 
that  you  are  not  already  dead.  We  make 
an  illumination  and  we  drink  coffee  under 
the  trees,  and  there  will  be  music.  It  is  a 
thought  of  Rudi's.  You  will  be  quite  well 
and  blooming  and  ready  to  come,  will  you  not? 
Now  I  run  away." 

She  had  only  just  left  when  Rose  heard  the 
familiar  patter  of  little  feet  flying  along  the 
corridor;  the  door  burst  open,  and  a  small 
figure,  inarticulate  from  want  of  breath  and 
excitement,  threw  itself  into  her  arms. 

"I  've  runned  away,"  gasped  Benjie,  hug- 
ging her  rapturously. 

"My  darling,  you  're always  running  away." 
She  returned  his  kisses  as  best  she  could,  for 
Rudolf's  roses  were  included  in  his  embrace 
and  were  crushed  remorselessly  against  her 
bosom. 

"The  poor  flowers!"  she  pleaded.  "They 
are  so  pretty,  we  must  not  kill  them." 

Benjie  sat  up.  His  hat  was  hanging  by 
the  elastic  from  the  back  of  his  neck  and  he 
was  flushed  with  victory.  Childlike,  he  had 
forgotten  the  terrors  of  the  night. 

' '  Flowers !     What  a  lot !     Oh,  what  a  lot ! " 

He  scrambled  down  to  the  floor,  and  running 


Congratulations  of  the  Gesellschaft    181 

out  on  to  the  balcony  danced  with  delight. 
He  gathered  the  bouquets  in  armfuls  and 
pelted  his  mother  with  them  until  she  cried 
for  mercy.  Catching  him  by  the  tails  of  his 
tunic  as  he  was  rushing  off  for  a  fresh  supply, 
she  pulled  him  up  beside  her. 

He  subsided  into  sudden  gravity. 

"He  keeped  his  promise,  muwer,"  he  said, 
after  gazing  at  her  intently  for  a  few  moments. 

"Who  kept  his  promise?"  asked  Rose. 

"He  keeped  his  promise,"  repeated  Benjie. 
"He  promised,  same  as  you  do,  muwer." 

"What  promise?  Whom  are  you  talking 
about?" 

"The  Englishman." 

With  wonderful  coherence  for  a  small 
child  who  generally  gabbled  out  his  words 
quicker  than  he  could  think,  Benjie  recounted 
the  incident  of  the  previous  evening. 

Rose  lay  still  and  listened.  She  could  see 
the  whole  scene;  she  could  feel  it:  The 
strong  man  and  the  sobbing,  frightened  child. 
The  man  making  promises  which  he  did  not 
in  the  least  know  whether  he  could  fulfil;  the 
child  clinging  to  him  in  helpless  misery,  trust- 
ing with  the  simplicity  of  childhood's  faith 
to  his  word. 

"You  like  the  Englishman?"  she  said. 


1 82        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"Yes,"  answered  Benjie,  promptly.  "But 
— I  like  the  soldier  man  too.  I — don't  know 
which  I  like  best,  muwer."  He  squeezed  his 
hands  tightly  together.  He  always  did  that 
when  very  much  in  earnest.  "I  like  the 
soldier  man  when  he  stands  on  his  head  and 
plays  funny  games.  I  don't  sink  the  English- 
man would  stand  on  his  head.  Do  you, 
muwer?" 

"No.     I  don't  think  he  would. ' ' 

He  squeezed  his  hands  still  tighter. 

"I  don't  know  which  I  like  best.  I  sink — 
I  sink  I  like  them  both  best." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE     LANTERN-FETE     AT     SCHLOSS     WALDHOF 

THE  glass  doors  of  the  restaurant  opened 
on  to  the  terrace,  from  which  steps  led 
down  into  the  garden.  A  little  distance  from 
the  steps  stood  a  group  of  pine  trees;  their 
lower  branches  were  lopped  and  their  tops 
thick  and  feathery.  That  evening  after  dark 
had  set  in  they  presented  an  unusual  appear- 
ance. From  every  branch  within  reach  hung 
Chinese  lanterns,  which  threw  down  coloured 
lights  on  the  groups  of  men  and  women  sitting 
round  the  tables  below.  The  splashes  of 
colour,  pink  and  blue  and  green,  lit  up  the 
women's  dresses  and  shone  on  the  uniforms 
of  the  men.  All  the  men  were  smoking,  and 
some  of  the  women,  but  with  the  latter  it  was 
the  exception  rather  than  the  rule. 

It  was  all  very  simple.  A  dozen  or  so  of 
Chinese  lanterns  had  transformed  the  Schloss 
garden  into  a  small  fete.  The  only  person 

183 


1 84        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

who  did  not  regard  the  fete  with  approval  was 
Vilma  Seybell.  She  had  watched  the  lanterns 
being  hung  up  and  she  knew  for  whom  the 
fete  was  given,  and  her  hatred  of  the  English- 
woman had  deepened  as  she  counted  the 
candles  being  lit.  Her  spiteful  remarks  of  the 
previous  evening  had  made  no  impression  on 
any  one;  they  had  rather  added  to  the  popu- 
larity of  the  two  people  she  had  tried  to  malign. 
She  joined  the  fete  and  pretended  to  be  enjoy- 
ing herself,  but  she  was  not  enjoying  herself. 
She  hated  the  whole  thing.  Her  only  satis- 
faction was,  that  Mrs.  Trevor  was  sitting  on 
one  side  of  the  circle  and  Mr.  Egerton  on  the 
other. 

The  day  had  been  one  of  mixed  pleasure 
for  Rose.  At  every  turn  she  had  been  met 
by  a  flood  of  congratulations  and  plied  with 
questions  about  the  previous  night's  adven- 
tures. She  was  the  heroine  of  the  moment. 
It  was  a  distinction  she  would  willingly  have 
avoided,  for  she  did  not  care  for  notoriety. 
That  evening  when  she  came  out  of  the  supper 
room  and  saw  the  illuminations  and  the  festive 
appearance  of  the  garden,  she  would  not  allow 
Rudolf  to  lead  her  to  one  of  the  most  con- 
spicuous tables  in  the  centre  of  the  circle. 

"I  would  rather  not  sit  there,"  she  said, 


Lantern-F£te  at  Schloss  Waldhof    185 

and  made  her  way  to  a  seat  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  crowd.  "It  is  quieter  here,  and  I  can 
listen  to  the  music  better." 

No  entertainment  of  such  a  kind  could  be 
a  success  without  music,  and  the  piano  had 
been  wheeled  out  on  to  the  terrace.  Every 
one  was  prepared  to  do  something,  joining  in 
a  chorus  if  they  could  attempt  nothing  better. 
Some  one  began  to  play  the  accompaniment 
to  "Kussen  ist  keine  Siind,"  and  every  voice 
took  up  the  air.  It  seemed  as  familiar  as  the 
National  Anthem. 

"  Kussen  ist  keine  Sund 
Mit  einem  schonen  Kind, 
Lacht  dir  ein  rosen  Mund 
Kuss  ihn  zu  jeder  Stund. 
Pflucke  die  Rosen  kuhn 
Die  dir  am  Wege  bluhen, 
Nimm  dir  was  dir  bestimmt 
Weil's  sonst  ein  anderer  nimmt." 

The  last  bars  of  the  chorus  were  repeated 
again  and  again,  and  allowed  to  die  reluct- 
antly. There  was  a  pause  of  a  few  minutes, 
and  then  a  name  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth. 

"Baron  Scholan,  do  you  not  hear  them 
calling  for  you?  "  said  Rose. 

Rudolf  drew  his  chair  farther  back  into  the 
shadow  of  hers. 


1 86        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"I  hear,  but  I  make  believe  not  to  hear. 
I  do  not  wish  to  go  away.  I  hide  myself," 
and  he  went  on  humming  "Kiissen  ist  keine 
Siind." 

She  did  not  wish  it  to  appear  that  he  was 
hiding  behind  her  chair.  Not  that  she  took 
Rudolf's  attentions  seriously,  because  it  would 
be  ridiculous  to  do  so.  Any  one  who  pro- 
claimed his  admiration  from  the  housetops 
as  he  did  could  not  be  serious ;  but  it  was  con- 
trary to  the  rules  of  the  present  society  for  a 
couple  to  sit  apart.  The  proper  thing  to  do 
was  to  sit  in  a  circle  round  a  table  and  join 
in  the  general  conversation. 

"Pflucke  die  Rosen  kuhn,"  sang  Rudolf, 
softly.  "I  sing  your  name.  I  find  it  beau- 
tiful." 

"How  do  you  know  my  name?"  she 
asked. 

"A  little  bird  tell  me."  He  leant  forward. 
"And  you  wear  my  roses.  That  is  kind  of 
you."  ' 

"You  really  did  send  that  lovely  bouquet? 
There  was  no  name.  Thank  you  so  much; 
they  are  so  sweet."  And  she  touched  the 
flowers  fastened  to  the  front  of  her  dress. 

"Gluckliche  Rosen,11  murmured  Rudolf. 

She  did  not  see  the  expression  in  his  eyes, 


Lantern-Fete  at  Schloss  Waldhof  187 

and  she  was  growing  so  accustomed  to  his 
pretty  turns  of  speech. 

Rudolf's  name  again  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth.  They  were  clamouring  for 
him. 

"What  is  it  that  they  want  you  to  do?" 
she  asked. 

He  raised  his  hand  to  his  shoulder  and 
imitated  playing  the  violin. 

"I  would  like  to  hear  you  play." 

"You  wish  me  to  go  away?"  he  said  re- 
proachfully. 

She  did  not  reply,  and  he  rose.  Standing 
irresolute  he  looked  down  at  her  with  a  curious 
intentness. 

"I  will  play — yes.  One  moment  you  will 
wish  to  dance,  and  one  moment  you  will  wish 
to  weep — so!" 

She  wondered  what  he  meant  to  do,  for 
he  was  a  person  of  surprises.  She  watched 
him  thread  his  way  in  and  out  between  the 
tables:  she  saw  him  mount  the  steps  of  the 
terrace  and  enter  the  Lese  Saal,  coming  out 
a  few  minutes  later  with  his  violin  case  under 
his  arm.  He  made  a  sign  to  Ilka,  who  left 
the  friends  she  was  sitting  with  and  sat  down 
to  the  piano.  He  tuned  his  violin  carefully, 
and  tucked  a  silk  handkerchief  into  the  neck 


1 88        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

of  his  tunic;  then  he  raised  his  bow  and  drew 
it  sharply  across  the  strings. 

Every  head  turned,  and  every  eye  was  con- 
centrated on  the  slight  figure  in  the  dark  blue 
uniform. 

Rudolf's  playing  had  an  intoxicating  effect 
upon  the  senses.  He  was  no  ordinary  ama- 
teur. He  could  have  held  an  audience  vastly 
more  critical  than  that  assembled  under  the 
pine  trees  in  the  garden  of  Schloss  Waldhof. 
His  mother  had  been  a  Hungarian,  and  he  was 
playing  the  music  of  that  country.  It  was 
as  much  as  some  of  these  men  and  women 
could  do  to  listen  and  to  sit  still.  He  set 
pulses  throbbing  and  feet  tingling. 

Myles  looked  across  to  where  Rose  was 
sitting.  How  would  the  music  affect  her,  he 
wondered?  She  was  leaning  forward,  and  the 
glow  from  a  crimson  lantern  fell  on  the  delicate 
outline  of  her  face.  Her  lips  were  slightly 
parted,  and  her  eyes  were  shining.  She  was 
charmed,  fascinated,  absorbed. 

Rudolf's  music  grew  wilder,  more  weird, 
more  fantastic.  When  he  had  strung  the 
feelings  of  his  audience  up  to  the  highest  pitch 
of  intensity,  he  broke  off  suddenly  and  stood 
with  his  bow  suspended  in  the  air,  and  a  smile 
hovering  on  his  lips.  Without  moving,  he 


Lantern-Fete  at  Schloss  Waldhof  189 

murmured  a  few  words  to  Ilka,  and  she  nodded 
in  response.  There  was  a  barely  perceptible 
pause,  and  then  there  floated  out  on  the  still 
air  of  the  summer  night  the  first  few  bars  of 
a  low,  sweet  melody.  It  fell  with  plaintive 
sadness  on  nerves  still  throbbing  with  the 
passionate  abandonment  of  the  wild  dance 
which  had  gone  before.  And  the  player's 
whole  expression  had  altered.  The  fire  and 
energy  and  reckless  gaiety  had  vanished.  On 
the  young  face  hovered  a  shadow.  The  blue 
eyes  gazed  straight  out  over  the  heads  of  the 
listening  crowd:  Rudolf  was  playing  for  one 
ear  alone. 

Myles  looked  again  across  to  the  table 
under  the  crimson  lantern.  How  would  she 
take  this  new  mood? 

The  chair  beside  the  table  was  empty.  She 
was  gone,  and  he  was  conscious  of  a  sensation 
of  blankness. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
VILMA'S  FACE  OUT  OF  THE  DARKNESS 

O  TUMBLING  down  the  dark  path  which  led 
^  away  from  the  lights  and  the  gay  crowd 
under  the  pine  trees,  Rose  groped  her  way 
blindly — anywhere,  anything  to  escape  out  of 
reach  of  the  sound  of  those  haunting  notes. 

She  had  no  settled  purpose  in  flying  from 
the  music;  the  primitive  instinct  of  flight 
prompted  and  guided  her.  She  ran  on  until 
she  found  herself  standing  in  front  of  the  little 
whitewashed  chapel  which  stood  by  the  bound- 
ary wall  of  the  Schloss  garden.  A  light  from 
the  half -open  door  shone  out  across  the  stone- 
flagged  vestibule. 

The  place  was  familiar  to  her  and  she 
entered.  It  was  very  small,  and  plain  to 
austerity.  Over  the  altar  hung  a  dimly-burn- 
ing lamp;  its  feeble  flame  hardly  sufficed  to 
illumine  the  bare  walls  and  the  stiff  lines  of 

praying  forms  ranged  down  either  side.     She 

190 


Vilma's  Face  out  of  the  Darkness    191 

sank  on  her  knees  and  laid  her  forehead  against 
the  woodwork  in  front  of  her.  It  was  shiny 
and  black  from  age,  and  cool  to  the  touch. 

Why  had  she  run  away?  she  asked  herself, 
drearily.  It  had  been  a  childish  impulse,  use- 
less and  futile.  The  last  time  that  same 
haunting  music  of  Rudolf's  had  stirred  into 
bitter  pain  the  memories  of  the  past,  she  had 
wept.  Her  eyes  were  dry  now,  and  she  had  no 
inclination  to  weep.  What  was  the  use  of 
tears?  It  was  an  hysterical  delusion  to  say 
that  they  brought  relief.  They  would  scald 
her  eyelids,  and  leave  her  with  aching  head 
and  throbbing  nerves. 

All  day  long  she  had  been  fighting  down  an 
ever-growing  weight  of  depression.  The  old 
feeling  of  rebellion  struggled  with  a  new  fear; 
she  was  dissatisfied,  doubtful  of  herself.  The 
feeling  had  been  with  her  ever  since  Myles 
had  made  known  to  her  his  identity,  and  its 
meaning  had  grown  and  grown.  A  few  words 
and  the  barrier  which  for  the  last  three  years 
she  had  held  between  herself  and  the  world 
was  broken  down.  It  gave  her  an  odd  sense 
of  defencelessness.  The  old  ground  had  been 
cut  away  from  under  her  feet,  and  she  was  not 
sure  of  the  new.  Yesterday  the  working  out 
of  her  future  had  lain  in  her  own  hands,  now 


192        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

a  strange,  undreamt-of  possibility  had  been 
presented  to  her.  She  wanted  time  to  think, 
to  face  certain  facts  from  an  altered  stand- 
point. 

For  these  past  three  years  she  had  been 
nursing  a  bitter  resentment  against  people 
whom  she  had  thought  had  insulted  her 
womanhood,  and  treated  her  as  a  social  out- 
cast. It  had  all  been  a  mistake.  Whilst  she 
had  been  smarting  under  a  sense  of  wrong  her 
very  existence  had  been  unknown.  Yesterday 
the  hand  of  kinship  had  been  held  out  to  her 
with  a  generous  admittance  of  the  injustice 
done. 

She  felt  hot  and  angry  with  herself  when  she 
remembered  how  ungracious  she  had  been; 
how  peremptorily  she  had  silenced  Myles  when 
he  had  told  her  that  he  wished  to  repair  the 
wrong  of  the  past.  Then  she  tried  to  excuse 
herself.  She  had  been  taken  by  surprise;  the 
revelation  of  the  truth  had  been  so  unexpected, 
and  the  old  sting  had  still  power  to  hurt.  How 
could  she  accept  from  this  stranger,  as  a 
favour,  what  ought  to  have  been  her  boy's 
by  right? 

Again  she  went  over  the  scene  of  the  day 
before.  Her  mind  had  been  full  at  the  time 
of  her  wrongs:  absorbed  in  her  own  feelings, 


Vilma's  Face  out  of  the  Darkness    193 

she  had  not  given  much  thought  to  the  feelings 
of  the  man  beside  her.  It  must  have  cost  him 
some  effort  to  speak,  and  he  had  shirked 
nothing.  He  had  behaved  very  well.  Only 
now,  in  looking  back,  she  realised  how  well. 
He  had  understood;  he  had  tacitly  acknow- 
ledged her  right  to  resent  the  past. 

She  moved  her  position,  trying  to  find  a 
cooler  spot  on  the  slippery  board  against  which 
to  lay  her  head.  It  ached  intolerably.  The 
more  she  tried  to  think,  the  less  light  seemed 
to  come  to  her.  Her  mind  worked  in  a  circle 
round  one  point.  Had  she  the  right  to  reject 
Myles's  claim  on  Benjie's  future? 

"If  I  died  to-morrow,  he  would  step  into 
my  shoes."  That  was  what  he  had  said.  He 
had  some  right  on  his  side,  but  she  had 
refused  to  even  discuss  the  possibility  of  such 
a  thing. 

Was  her  pride  an  honest  pride  or  a  false 
pride — and — if  she  had  not  come  under  the 
influence  of  this  man's  personality,  would  she 
be  feeling  differently?  How  did  his  per- 
sonality affect  her? 

She  raised  her  head,  and  her  tired  eyes 

fell  on  the  dim  outline  of  the  Cross  hanging 

over  the  altar.     Rough-hewn  out  of  the  solid 

wood,  it  hung  poised  from  an  iron  bar,  its 

13 


194        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

outstretched  arms  seeming  to  throw  their  pro- 
tecting shadow  over  her  kneeling  figure.  Her 
lips  shaped  themselves  into  a  form  of  prayer, 
but  the  words  sounded  meaningless.  There 
are  times  when  the  spirit  passes  through  a 
phase  of  blankness;  nothing  can  touch  it.  No 
familiar  formula  strikes  a  spark  of  vitality. 
The  soul  is  weighed  down  with  a  sense  of 
spiritual  numbness. 

She  dropped  her  head  again  on  her  hands, 
and  knelt  for  some  time  without  moving,  then 
she  rose  and  left  the  chapel.  The  door  was 
still  open  and  she  made  no  noise.  The  faint 
light  from  the  lamp  shone  out  into  the  dark 
vestibule  beyond.  The  man  of  whom  her 
thoughts  had  been  full  was  standing  on  the 
stone  flags  within  a  few  feet  of  her. 

She  drew  back.  Perhaps  he  would  pass  on 
and  not  recognise  her.  The  vestibule  had  an 
opening  at  both  ends  and  was  used  as  a  public 
thoroughfare. 

But  he  did  not  move,  and  a  sudden  resolu- 
tion came  to  her.  There  was  something  that 
she  wished  to  say  to  him,  and  she  stepped  out 
from  the  shadow  of  the  doorway. 

His  start  of  surprise  showed  that  he  had 
been  unaware  of  her  presence.  He  did  not 
easily  show  change  of  colour,  but  a  dark  glow 


Vilma's  Face  out  of  the  Darkness    195 

crept  up  under  the  brown  skin,  and  then  left 
it  again  unusually  pale. 

"I — beg  your  pardon,"  he  stammered.  "I 
— did  not  know  you  were  in  the  chapel." 

If  she  had  not  been  so  occupied  with  her 
own  thoughts,  she  might  have  wondered  why 
he  seemed  embarrassed. 

It  was  a  little  difficult  to  speak.  They  had 
not  met  since  that  parting  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, for  he  had  not  been  seen  in  the  vicinity  of 
Waldhof  all  day.  He  had  appeared  in  the 
Speise  Saal  very  late  for  supper,  and  after- 
wards, when  they  had  all  gone  out  into  the 
garden,  he  had  seated  himself  at  a  table  quite 
away  from  hers.  She  had  been  surprised,  the 
least  little  bit  disappointed.  It  would  have 
been  only  natural  for  him  to  have  come  up  and 
spoken;  but  she  was  not  going  to  allow  these 
things  to  influence  her. 

"I  wanted  to  see  you — to  thank  you  for 
something , ' '  she  began .  ' '  About  my  little  boy 
— last  night  when  he  was  so  frightened.  You 
never  told  me.  Why  did  n't  you?  I  never 
knew  that  it  was  from  him  that  you  found  out 
we  were  lost." 

Myles  was  dumb.  To  find  that  he  could 
not  trust  his  own  voice  was  a  novel  sensation. 
All  the  evening  Rudolf  had  followed  her  like 


196        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

a  shadow,  and  he  had  purposely  held  aloof. 
Now,  quite  unexpectedly,  without  any  plan- 
ning on  his  part,  his  hour  had  come.  She  was 
there  beside  him,  alone  in  the  flower-scented 
darkness  of  the  summer  night. 

The  unexpectedness  of  it,  the  overwhelming 
fact  that  he  loved  her,  swept  over  him  like  a 
sudden  storm  blast.  He  did  not  recognise 
himself.  He  had  never  believed  himself  cap- 
able of  loving  a  woman  like  this. 

And  she  was  quite  unconscious  of  his  feel- 
ings. He  knew  that  by  the  way  she  looked 
at  him.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  tumult 
of  passion  she  had  brought  to  life,  and  he 
dared  not  speak.  He  was  afraid  to  risk  his 
chance. 

The  light  from  the  chapel  door  fell  on  her 
and  left  him  in  shadow.  She  did  not  under- 
stand his  silence,  and  she  felt  chilled,  thrown 
back  on  herself.  He  was  disappointing.  Yes- 
terday he  had  been  kind  and  sympathetic, 
and  she  had  not  appreciated  it.  To-night  she 
wanted  sympathy,  and  he  was  cold  and  indif- 
ferent. It  was  all  very  contradictory. 

She  moved  ever  so  slightly,  and  the  scent  of 
the  roses  she  wore  was  wafted  towards  him. 
Their  fragrance  seemed  part  of  herself.  Her 
nearness  set  his  blood  on  fire. 


Vilma's  Face  out  of  the  Darkness    197 

"If  I  let  myself  go  now,  I  '11  frighten  her. 
She  does  n't  understand." 

He  murmured  something  which  she  thought 
sounded  a  deprecation  of  her  thanks. 

"You  think  it  was  not  much  to  comfort  a 
little  frightened  child?  I  think  it  was  a  great 
deal. ' '  Her  voice  faltered  for  a  moment.  ' '  He 
— is  everything  to  me." 

He  winced  at  her  words.  He  was  jealous ; 
he  could  not  help  it.  That  soft  look  of 
motherhood  in  her  eyes?  He  would  never  be 
first.  Was  there  a  chance  for  him  even  to  hold 
a  second  place?  Would  he  be  satisfied  with 
that?  Some  women  were  as  faithful  to  a  dead 
love  as  to  a  living. 

"Good-night,"  said  Rose,  and  she  held  out 
her  hand.  His  indifference  hurt  her,  but  she 
was  determined  not  to  notice  it.  Men  hated 
a  fuss,  and  being  thanked  for  things;  she 
ought  to  have  remembered  that.  He  took  her 
hand,  but  released  it  almost  at  once.  He 
might  just  as  well  have  been  shaking  hands 
with  a  piece  of  wood,  she  thought.  If  he  had 
responded  ever  so  little  it  would  have  made  a 
difference.  She  had  no  heart  to  return  to  the 
fete,  and  there  was  only  the  solitariness  of  her 
own  room  to  tall  back  on.  She  felt  the  desolate- 
ness  of  it :  the  old  miserable  ache  of  loneliness. 


198        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"Good-night,"  she  said  again;  "I  am  not 
going  back  to  the  others.  I — I  can't.  Some- 
thing in  the  music  made  me  feel  so — lonely." 

Doubts,  fears,  scruples — Myles  threw  them 
to  the  winds.  For  one  brief  moment  he  had 
been  given  a  glimpse  of  her  inner  self.  Young 
and  very  human,  in  need  of  love  and  sympathy, 
in  need  of  the  happiness  which  was  her  right. 
He  could  give  it  all  if  she  would  only  take  it. 

She  was  going.  She  had  already  made  a 
step  away  from  him.  He  stretched  out  his 
arms  and  they  fell  back  again  to  his  side. 
Framed  in  the  gloom  of  the  archway  opposite 
he  saw  the  face  of  Vilma  Seybell.  It  was 
white  as  chalk.  It  might  have  been  the  face 
of  a  corpse,  but  for  the  scarlet  lips  and  the 
brilliant  light  which  flashed  from  the  dark 
eyes. 

He  stared  at  the  face  incredulously.  When 
he  moved  it  vanished.  He  could  not  believe 
the  evidence  of  his  senses.  The  thing  had 
never  been  there.  Surprise  for  the  moment 
put  every  thought  out  of  his  head,  then  sur- 
prise changed  to  anger,  for  Rose  had  gone. 

He  went  quickly  down  the  steps  into  the 
garden  and  listened.  There  was  not  a  sound 
to  guide  him  as  to  what  direction  she  had 
taken,  and  it  was  dark.  A  labyrinth  of  paths 


Vilma's  Face  out  of  the  Darkness    199 

led  back  in  the  direction  of  theSchloss.  What 
was  the  use  of  following?  The  spell  had  been 
broken ;  it  was  too  late. 

He  sat  down  on  the  lowest  step  and  cursed 
himsell  audibly  for  a  faint-hearted  fool.  He 
had  been  given  his  chance  and  he  had  let  it 
go.  If  only  she  had  said  those  few  last  words 
sooner,  he  could  have  spoken.  So  much  hung 
in  the  balance  and  the  stake  was  so  high.  It 
meant  everything  to  him,  and  he  had  been 
afraid.  He  dug  his  heel  into  the  ground  in 
front  of  him.  Why  had  he  let  his  chance 
go?  •  It  was  a  relief  to  hit  something,  and  he 
crunched  into  the  gravel  path  again. 

If  only  she  had  said  those  few  words  sooner 
he  could  have  spoken. 

Standing  before  the  lighted  candles  on  the 
dressing-table  in  her  own  room,  Vilma  Seybell 
slowly  unbuttoned  the  long  black  cloak  which 
covered  her  dress  from  neck  to  foot.  It  was 
made  of  some  soft,  limp  material  and  clung  to 
her  figure.  She  gave  her  shoulders  an  im- 
patient shake,  and  it  slid  to  the  floor.  There 
was  a  suggestion  of  evil  about  it  as  it  lay,  a 
heap  of  dark,  sinuous  coils  on  the  white  boards. 

She  looked  down  at  it  and  kicked  it  under 
the  dressing-table.  The  action  was  character- 


200        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

istic  of  her;  its  work  was  done.  Vilma  never 
wasted  time  over  things  after  they  had  served 
her  purpose. 

She  took  a  step  nearer  the  lighted  candles 
and  stared  intently  at  her  own  reflection  in 
the  mirror  which  hung  on  the  wall  above  them. 
On  either  cheek  now  was  a  patch  of  colour  as 
red  as  her  lips.  The  hood  of  her  cloak  had 
pressed  the  thick,  black  hair  down  on  her  fore- 
head, and  from  under  the  dark  brows  her  eyes 
shone  with  a  cruel,  angry  light.  She  felt 
wicked,  and  she  looked  wicked. 

"I  would  like  to  kill  him!"  she  hissed 
through  her  teeth. 

It  was  against  the  man  that  she  raged 
fiercely. 

"What  does  he  love  her  for?  She — apiece 
of  ice !  To  stand  beside  him  and  not  to  know 
that  he  was  burning  his  heart  to  possess  her! 
And  for  a  woman  such  as  that,  a  man  will  sell 
his  soul ! ' ' 

She  tore  the  little  muslin  handkerchief 
which  she  held  in  her  twitching  fingers  delib- 
erately in  two. 

"These  Englishmen  when  they  love,  it  holds 
them  like  the  Devil!  He  will  not  give  her  up. 
Because  she  is  cold,  he  will  not  fly  to  the  arms 
of  another  woman.  He  will  shut  her  up  in  his 


Vilma's  Face  out  of  the  Darkness    201 

heart  and  worship  her  till  eternity!  He  will 
never  forget." 

She  flung  the  pieces  of  torn  handkerchief  on 
the  floor,  and  stamped  on  them. 

' '  He  shall  not  have  her !  I  would  rather  kill 
him  than  let  him  have  her!" 

She  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room, 
treading  softly.  There  was  something  cat- 
like in  her  movements.  Every  time  she 
passed  the  mirror  on  the  wall  she  looked  at 
herself,  and  the  expression  on  her  face  har- 
dened. Finally,  she  came  to  a  standstill  again 
beside  the  dressing-table,  and  picked  up  an 
open  letter  which  lay  there.  She  had  read  it 
before,  but  she  read  it  again. 

It  was  from  her  father.  It  was  short  and 
curt.  An  autocratic  order  to  his  wife  and 
daughter  to  return  to  Vienna  within  three 
days.  There  was  no  explanation  as  to  why 
they  were  to  return.  Baron  Seybell  was  a 
man  who  gave  commands — not  reasons.  It 
had  suited  his  plans  to  allow  his  wife  to  go 
to  Waldhof  to  take  the  Kur;  it  suited  him 
now  to  order  her  to  leave  it. 

Vilma  threw  the  letter  down  with  an  ex- 
clamation of  anger. 

To  return  to  Vienna  now  in  the  heat  of 
summer  when  every  one  else  was  leaving  it? 


202        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

The  idea  was  unbearable.  What  object  had 
her  father  in  making  them  do  such  a  thing? 
A  selfish  whim,  but  it  would  have  to  be  obeyed. 
He  was  the  personification  of  selfishness. 

Vilma  continued  her  cat-like  walk  up  and 
down  the  room. 

Three  days?  What  could  she  do  in  three 
days?  She  pushed  the  heavy  hair  back  from 
her  brow ;  its  weight  oppressed  her. 

"My  head  is  so  stupid,"  she  muttered. 
"  It  will  not  tell  me  what  to  do." 

She  pressed  her  fingers  hard  against  her  hot 
eyeballs.  The  sense  of  physical  pain  seemed 
to  bring  with  it  inspiration.  She  dropped  her 
hands  and  smiled;  there  was  an  animal-like 
cruelty  in  the  eyes  which  flashed  back  at  her 
from  the  glass  on  the  wall. 

"It  is  she — she  who  must  hurt  him!"  She 
spoke  the  words  aloud,  triumphantly.  "  I  will 
find  a  way  to  make  him  so  detestable  in  her 
eyes  that  she  will  scorn  him  until  he  breaks  his 
heart  for  her.  It  is  only  she  who  can  make 
him  suffer.  Through  her  I  will  be  revenged. 
Gott!  But  the  Devil  himself  will  be  sorry  for 
him!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MYLES    EXACTS    A    PROMISE 

HPHE  next  day  passed  very  uneventfully. 
To  Rose  it  seemed  long  and  monotonous. 
Ilka  Rentier  had  been  absent  on  business  of  her 
own,  and  the  soldiers  were  engaged  on  special 
duty,  which  had  taken  them  some  distance 
from  the  camp.  Not  a  single  blue  coat  had 
been  seen  in  the  Schloss  garden  from  early 
morning  until  evening.  Indirectly  Rose  had 
heard  that  Mr.  Egerton  had  started  at  dawn 
on  a  mountaineering  expedition. 

"Society  does  not  agree  with  me,"  she  said 
to  herself,  as  she  leant  back  in  the  garden 
chair  under  the  chestnut  tree,  and  watched 
the  low  sunbeams  shining  on  the  leaves  above 
her  head.  "And  in  a  little  while  all  these 
people  will  be  gone,  and  I  will  never  see  them 
again." 

An  incident  had  occurred  before  she  had 

left  her  room  that  morning  which  had  sur- 

203 


204        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

prised  and  touched  her.  A  note  had  been 
brought  to  her  from  Ilka  Rentier.  In  affec- 
tionate, but  somewhat  incoherent  terms,  for 
Ilka  had  written  in  a  violent  hurry,  she  had 
invited  Rose  to  go  on  an  expedition  with  her 
the  following  day  to  Cortina. 

"It  is  quite  altogether  wicked  that  you  do 
not  know  the  country  of  the  Dolomiten.  I 
insist,  I  command,  I  take  you.  After  the 
tragedy  of  the  avalanche  it  is  necessary  for 
you  to  have  some  amusement.  For  one  night 
only  we  stay  away,  therefore  you  need  not 
fear  for  the  little  one." 

So  ran  the  invitation,  and  there  was  a  post- 
script. 

"I  will  be  absent  from  Waldhof  all  day. 
You  will  tell  me  in  the  evening  that  you  will 
come." 

It  was  very  kind  of  Ilka,  but  of  course  she 
could  not  go.  She  could  not  leave  Benjie,  in 
the  first  place,  and  an  expedition  to  stay  the 
night  anywhere  was  something  so  unusual  that 
there  seemed  every  reason  against  it.  She 
put  the  idea  away  from  her  as  impossible.  She 
had  lived  in  a  narrow  groove  for  so  long  that 
quite  simple  things  assumed  the  shape  of 
impossibilities. 

Through  a  gap  in  the  trees  she  could  see 


Myles  Exacts  a  Promise          205 

the  line  of  the  hills.  The  snow  still  lay  in 
clefts  on  some  of  the  higher  reaches;  two 
white-tipped  peaks  rose  above  the  dense  black- 
ness of  the  pine  woods. 

Mountaineering  must  be  a  fascinating 
amusement.  For  quite  a  long  time  she 
imagined  that  she  had  been  thinking  about 
mountaineering  in  the  abstract;  then  she  sat 
up  and  turned  over  the  pages  of  a  book  which 
lay  open  on  her  lap.  She  had  been  thinking  of 
Myles  Egerton,  and  where  he  had  been,  and 
which  of  those  rugged  peaks  he  had  climbed. 
It  was  annoying,  but  ever  so  many  times  that 
day  she  had  found  herself  thinking  about 
him. 

She  read  a  couple  of  pages  and  frowned  over 
the  sense  of  what  she  read.  It  seemed  rather 
meaningless,  and  she  laid  the  book  down  again 
with  a  little  impatient  slap. 

Moody  people  were  most  uncomfortable. 
One  day  they  were  pleasant  and  the  next 
unapproachable.  "He  showed  quite  plainly 
last  night  that  he  was  not  interested,"  she 
murmured  aloud.  "I  suppose  it  's  natural. 
He  has  done  what  he  thought  he  ought  to 
do,  and  there  's  an  end  of  it.  I  wish  he  would 
go  away.  My  conscience  will  keep  on  worry- 
ing until  he  does." 


206        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Benjie's  laugh  roused  her.  He  had  been 
playing  at  a  little  distance  from  her  chair  with 
his  butterfly  net,  and  was  flying  backwards 
and  forwards  over  the  grass  brandishing  it 
in  the  air.  The  butterflies  had  all  gone  to 
bed,  but  that  did  not  matter.  Rose  saw  with 
inward  misgivings  that  the  lady  of  the  blue 
parasol  episode  was  sitting  near,  reading,  too 
engrossed  in  her  book  to  realise  her  danger. 
Every  time  Benjie  passed  her  chair  he  made 
a  swoop  in  the  direction  of  her  hat,  which  was 
covered  with  flowers  and  feathers,  and  had 
long  gauzy  streamers,  and  perhaps  reminded 
him  of  a  large  butterfly. 

She  called  to  him,  and  he  waved  his  net 
and  made  a  dash  past  the  gauzy  streamers. 
The  little  feet  tripped  in  their  hurry,  and 
there  was  a  shrill  scream  of  anger.  A  con- 
fusion of  feathers  and  flowers  and  ribbons, 
and  little  kicking  heels,  and  a  broken  butterfly 
net,  all  lay  on  the  grass  in  a  heap  together. 

"Oh!"  gasped  Rose.  She  was  prepared  to 
go  to  the  rescue,  then  hesitated  and  sank  back 
into  her  chair. 

How,  or  from  where  she  did  not  rightly 
know,  but  Mr.  Egerton  had  suddenly  appeared 
on  the  scene.  He  was  standing  in  front  of 
the  enraged  lady  and  politely  taking  off  his 


Myles  Exacts  a  Promise          207 

hat  to  her.  The  stream  of  angry  language 
which  had  commenced  to  rain  on  the  head 
of  the  delinquent  ceased,  as  the  gauze-trimmed 
hat  was  picked  up  and  courteously  restored, 
with  a  smile  as  ingratiating  as  any  that  Rudolf 
could  have  summoned  for  the  occasion.  A 
murmur  of  amicable  platitudes  expressed  in 
excellent  German  reached  Rose's  ears,  and 
then  she  saw  Myles  coming  towards  her  hold- 
ing Benjie's  hand  and  looking  down  into  the 
small  face  upturned  to  his. 

''Good-evening,  Mrs.  Trevor,"  he  said.  He 
stood  for  a  moment,  not  undecidedly,  but  just 
long  enough  to  show  that  the  humour  of  the 
situation  was  not  lost  upon  him.  Then  he 
sat  down  on  the  grass  in  front  of  her  chair. 
"  Do  you  think  I  did  that  well?  "  he  asked. 

He  slipped  the  strap  of  his  field-glasses  from 
his  shoulder,  and  allowed  them  to  slide  to  the 
ground.  Benjie  crept  near,  and  stretching  out 
an  eager  hand  took  possession  of  them. 

Rose  had  flushed  up  at  his  approach.  The 
remembrance  of  his  last  night's  manner  ran- 
kled and  this  pleasant  self-possession  was 
rather  disconcerting.  She  would  meet  him 
with  equal  self-possession,  she  determined. 

"Yes,  you  did  it  very  well,"  she  answered 
lightly.  "You  ought  to  be  a  diplomatist." 


208        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"Thank  you.  It  flatters  me  to  think  that 
you  have  found  me  out." 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  did  not  put  it  on 
again,  but  laid  it  on  the  ground  almost  touch- 
ing her  dress.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his 
hair.  It  was  quite  neat  and  unruffled, 
although  he  had  been  on  the  tramp  since  early 
morning.  With  the  feminine  quickness  for 
observing  small  details  she  was  conscious  of 
everything  he  wore  and  how  he  wore  it. 

"He  would  never  look  hot  or  untidy  or 
uncomfortable,"  was  the  thought  which  passed 
through  her  mind. 

"Found  you  out?"  she  asked.  "What 
have  I  found  out?  " 

"My  trade.  I  'm  in  the  Diplomatic  Ser- 
vice." He  picked  a  blade  of  grass  from  a 
clump  beside  him  and  began  to  peel  it  neatly 
into  strips.  "It 's  good  discipline.  Teaches 
you  how  to  smooth  down  irate  ladies,  and  how 
to  retrieve — hats,  and — at  times  how  to  dis- 
simulate." 

"So  I  should  imagine." 

He  glanced  up. 

"I  deserve  that,  of  course.  You  mean  that 
first  time  when  I  was  introduced  to  you  up  on 
the  tennis  court?  I  was  full  of  guile  that 
day." 


Myles  Exacts  a  Promise          209 

"I  should  think  that  guile  was  very  useful 
to  a  diplomatist." 

"  Sometimes.  But  don't  you  think  it  would 
have  been  rather  awkward  if  I  had  given 
myself  away  then?" 

She  was  looking  down  at  the  ground  in 
front  of  her. 

"Was  it — was  it  really  true  that  you 
came  abroad  on  purpose  to  find  us?"  she 
said. 

"Yes.  There  was  no  guile  about  that.  I 
had  some  difficulty  in  getting  leave.  I  'm 
living  at  the  end  of  a  string  now,  and  may  be 
recalled  at  any  moment." 

She  still  kept  her  eyes  on  the  ground. 

11  But  the  duty  which  brought  you  is  finished. 
It "  She  did  not  proceed  further. 

He  allowed  the  strips  of  grass  to  fall  through 
his  fingers  one  by  one. 

"There  are  other  things.  I  don't  know 
what  I  shall  do  when  I  am  recalled.  I  may 
refuse  to  go  back — chuck  my  billet.  It 
depends." 

She  changed  the  subject  abruptly. 

"Benjie  is  playing  with  your  glasses.  I 
hope  he  won't  spoil  them." 

Myles  drew  the  child  towards  him,  and 
placing  him  between  his  knees  on  the  grass. 
14 


210        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

held  the  glasses  before  his  eyes  and  explained 
to  him  how  to  use  them. 

Rose  looked  on  and  watched  silently.  The 
two  heads,  the  dark  one  and  the  fair,  curly  one, 
almost  touched  each  other.  Benjie  did  exactly 
what  he  was  told,  for  the  hidden  mystery  con- 
tained within  those  two  black  funnels  fasci- 
nated him.  Naturally,  he  could  see  nothing 
at  first,  then  he  whispered  softly,  afraid  that 
speech  might  dispel  the  vision : 

"I  sink  I  see  somethin'.  I  sink "  He 

drew  a  long  breath.  "  I  sink  it 's  a  cow." 

Myles  laughed. 

"I  'm  afraid  it 's  not.  I  think  it 's  your 
nurse  coming  to  take  you  off  to  bed." 

Benjie  looked  over  the  top  of  the  glasses 
and  waved  indignantly  at  the  sturdy  figure 
which  was  seen  approaching. 

"Go  away!"  he  cried.  "I  'm  not  comin'. 
I  fm  not  goin'  to  bed  to-night." 

"But  you  must  go,"  said  his  mother. 
"Leopoldina  is  late.  She  ought  to  have 
come  for  you  some  time  ago." 

"No,  no,  I  can't  go.  I  'm  so  busy,  muwer. 
I  was  just  beginnin'  to  see.  I  can't  go  to  bed." 

He  hugged  the  glasses  in  his  arms;  the 
thought  of  relinquishing  them  was  unbearable. 

Myles  held  out  his  hand  and  said  quietly: 


Myles  Exacts  a  Promise          21 1 

"Give  them  to  me,  Benjie." 

The  child's  face  crimsoned,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment he  hesitated;  then  his  grasp  relaxed. 
With  a  lingering  regret  and  a  deep  sigh  he 
obeyed. 

The  marks  of  hot  little  fingers  were  very- 
apparent  on  the  glasses,  and  Myles  took  out 
his  handkerchief  and  polished  them. 

"Now  they  go  to  bed  like  you,"  he  said 
to  a  pair  of  round  eyes  which  watched  his 
every  movement.  He  put  the  glasses  into 
their  case  and  fastened  the  strap.  Then  he 
set  Benjie  on  his  feet. 

"Good-night,"  he  said.  "To-morrow,  if 
mother  says  you  may,  I  '11  take  you  out  and 
let  you  look  through  them  again.  Perhaps 
you  '11  see  real  cows  walking  about  on  the  tops 
of  the  mountains." 

Somewhat  to  his  embarrassment  Benjie 
threw  his  arms  round  his  neck. 

"Promise  same  as  you  did  before,"  he 
exclaimed. 

Myles  was  conscious  of  an  odd  sensation 
round  his  heart  as  the  child  pressed  his  soft 
lips  against  his  cheek. 

"You've  got  a  good  memory.  There,  I 
promise,"  he  said,  and  disengaged  himself  from 
the  embrace. 


212        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Without  further  persuasion  Benjie  allowed 
himself  to  be  carried  off.  There  was  silence 
for  a  few  moments,  broken  first  by  Myles. 

"Rum  little  beggars  children  are,"  he  said. 

She  was  watching  the  small  figure  trotting 
along  beside  Leopoldina's  voluminous  petti- 
coats. 

"I  think  my  second  piece  of  diplomacy  was 
as  successful  as  my  first,"  he  added.  "  I  have 
been  hoping  that  you  would  congratulate 
me." 

He  wished  she  would  turn  and  look  at  him, 
and  she  did.  A  smile  hovered  round  her  lips; 
her  eyes  were  shining  softly. 

"It  was  bribery,  pure  and  simple,  and  you 
do  not  know  what  you  have  committed  your- 
self to.  He  is  a  most  tenacious  little  person. 
He  will  follow  you  about  to-morrow  like  a 
shadow,  and  exact  the  fulfilment  of  that 
promise  time  after  time." 

"I  am  prepared  to  keep  it.  I  meant  what 
I  said."  He  took  his  cigarette  case  out  of 
his  pocket.  "You  don't  object?"  he  asked. 
He  lit  the  cigarette  slowly.  ' '  My  first  to-day ! 
I  have  led  the  abstemious  life  of  a  wandering 
hermit  since  early  morning.  No  smoking,  a 
few  hard  biscuits,  and  a  drink  of  cold  water." 

"You  look  quite  fresh." 


Myles  Exacts  a  Promise          213 

"Much  fresher  than  when  I  started.  If 
you  're  bothered  about  anything,  Nature  is  the 
best  tonic  you  can  go  to."  His  voice  took  a 
meditative  tone.  "There's  something  won- 
derfully restful  about  mountains.  I  suppose 
it 's  the  height  and  the  solitude  and  the  limit- 
less space.  Things  get  levelled  down  to  their 
proper  sense  of  proportion." 

He  smoked  for  a  few  minutes  in  silence 
and  then  began  to  talk  in  quite  a  different 
vein :  talked  of  the  topics  of  the  day ;  of  things 
social  and  political,  of  things  that  were  going 
on  at  home — in  England.  He  knew  his  world, 
and  he  had  lived  in  the  throb  and  stir  of  life. 
His  profession  had  trained  him  to  look  below 
the  surface.  He  could  talk  very  well  when 
he  liked,  and  he  had  an  object  in  talking. 
He  wished  not  merely  to  interest;  he  wished 
to  stir  the  heart  of  his  listener.  She  was  to  be 
made  to  want  to  come  back  to  the  world  she 
had  renounced.  It  was  all  part  of  a  plan 
which  he  had  worked  out  during  his  solitary 
day  amongst  the  mountains. 

As  Rose  listened  to  him  it  was  borne  in 
upon  her  how  complete  had  been  her  isolation 
of  the  last  three  years,  how  entirely  she  had 
cut  herself  off  from  her  own  people.  At  the 
casual  mention  of  a  name,  or  allusion  to  some 


214        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

well-known  subject  of  the  day,  a  wave  of 
home-sickness  swept  over  her. 

During  a  pause  he  thought  he  heard  her 
sigh. 

"Am  I  boring  you?"  he  asked. 

"No.  But  you  make  me  feel  as  though  I 
had  been  living  on  a  desert  island.  My  life 
has  been  very  narrow  lately.  I  suppose  one 
is  bound  to  get  into  a  groove  when  everything 
centres  round  one's  own  individual  interests." 

Myles  felt  that  his  tactics  were  prospering. 

"I  think  most  of  us  cling  to  our  grooves 
more  or  less.  It  is  an  insinuating  form  of 
self-indulgence  which  I  combat  unsuccess- 
fully. At  heart  I  'm  incurably  lazy — I  mean 
about  so-called  pleasures.  Invitations,  for 
instance.  A  churlish  indolence  tempts  me 
to  refuse  them,  then  my  unsociability  reacts 
on  my  own  head,  and  I  repent." 

She  was  reminded  of  the  invitation  she  had 
received  that  morning  from  Ilka.  To  her 
surprise  she  found  herself  telling  him  about  it. 
When  she  came  to  enumerate  the  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  accepting  it,  they  sounded  rather 
feeble. 

Myles  smoked  and  listened.  In  this  new 
development  he  saw  a  helping  hand.  She 
wanted  a  woman  friend;  some  one  with  a 


Myles  Exacts  a  Promise          215 

wholesome  appreciation  of  the  happy  side  of 
life. 

He  knocked  .the  ash  off  his  cigarette  and 
remarked  quietly: 

' '  Can't  you  manage  it  somehow ?  Cortina  's 
a  place  you  ought  to  see." 

"Yes;  I  suppose  it  is." 

"And  the  Grafin  would  be  a  charming  com- 
panion. She  knows  that  part  of  the  world,  I 
believe.  It  makes  all  the  difference  going  a 
trip  with  some  one  who  's  up  to  the  ways  of  the 
country."  He  felt  in  his  pocket  and  brought 
out  a  local  time-table.  "  It 's  an  easy  journey, 
too,  from  here.  You  would  have  to  start  early 
and  pick  up  the  train  for  Toblach  at  one  of  the 
stations  on  the  Pusterthal."  He  turned  over 
the  leaves  of  the  time-table.  ' '  I  wonder  which 
is  the  nearest?  But  a  drive  in  the  early  morn- 
ing just  now  is  delightful.  It  's  all  plain  sail- 
ing after  you  get  to  Toblach.  That 's  the 
beginning  of  the  Dolomite  country  on  this 
side,  and  you  drive  all  the  way  to  Cortina. 
Splendid  scenery." 

"It  sounds  charming."  She  was  a  little 
piqued  at  the  interest  he  was  taking  in  plan- 
ning out  an  expedition  in  which  he  was  going 
to  take  no  part  himself. 

"As  to  the  boy,"  he  continued,  "I  should 


2i 6        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

think  you  could  safely  leave  him  with  his  nurse 
for  one  night.  Would  it  be  any  use  if  I 
promised  to  keep  an  eye  on  him?  I  really 
mean  it,"  seeing  she  was  about  to  protest. 
"You  saw  just  now  what  a  tranquillising  effect 
I  had  on  him." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  suggest  such  a 
thing,  but  I  am  afraid  it 's  impossible.  I  don't 
see  how  I  could  manage  to  get  away." 

She  meant  to  give  him  the  impression  that 
her  decision  was  final,  and  she  glanced  at  the 
little  watch  bangle  on  her  wrist. 

"Do  you  know  it  is  long  past  the  supper 
hour?"  she  said,  and  rose  as  she  spoke. 

He  walked  with  her  to  the  door  of  the 
Schloss.  She  thought  he  would  leave  her 
there,  but  he  followed  her  into  the  dimly-lit 
hall  which  was  quiet  and  deserted,  for  at  that 
hour  every  one  was  in  the  restaurant.  She 
paused  by  the  iron-barred  window  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  on  the  same  spot  where  they  had 
parted  the  morning  before.  The  light  fell  on 
his  face,  and  she  noticed  that  he  was  standing 
in  the  same  attitude,  one  foot  resting  on  the 
step,  and  his  hand  on  the  rail  of  the  stairway. 

"On  second  thoughts,"  she  said  "I  don't 
think  I  will  go  over  to  the  restaurant.  Leo- 
poldina  can  bring  me  something  here." 


Myles  Exacts  a  Promise          217 

A  look  of  alarm  crossed  his  face. 

"Do  you  mean  you  won't  come  down  again 
to-night?" 

"No;  I  think  not." 

He  was  looking  at  her  very  intently. 

"  There — was  something  more  about  Cortina 
that  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about,"  he 
said. 

"But  I  am  not  going  to  Cortina;  I  explained 
why.  I  thought  you  understood." 

She  wished  he  would  not  look  at  her  so 
intently. 

He  altered  his  position  and  slid  his  hand  a 
little  higher  up  the  rail.  A  faint  warning — 
something  undefined,  startled  her.  She  took 
a  step  upwards. 

"Good-night,"  she  said  hurriedly. 

"Not  yet,"  and  he  moved  a  step  higher 
also. 

She  could  not  stand  that  look  any  longer, 
and  her  eyes  fell. 

His  voice  sounded  rather  strained — not  as 
even  as  usual. 

"I  want  you  to  go  to  Cortina.  I  have  a 
reason  for  wanting  you  to  go." 

"A  reason?"  she  faltered. 

"Do  you  think  if  I  had  not  had  a  reason 
I  would  have  talked  like  that  in  the  garden 


2i 8        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

just  now? — planned  out  two  whole  days  when 
I  would  not  see  you?  " 

"I  don't  understand,"  she  murmured. 

"No — because  you — you  don't  understand 
how  it  is  with  me.  Last  night  1  tried  to  speak 
— top  make  you  understand ;  but  I  was  afraid. 
Did  you  notice  anything?  Perhaps;  but  you 
did  not  guess  the  truth.  All  day  i  have  been 
fighting  it  out  with  myself  how  I  was  to  make 
you  understand." 

A  few  seconds  silence.  She  could  have 
counted  them  by  heart-beats,  for  her  heart 
beat  to  suffocation.  Then  his  voice  went 
on,  steadily  this  time.  There  was  no  tremor 
in  its  deep  tone. 

"I  want  you  to  go  to  Cortina — to  go  away 
from  all  influences  which  might  sway  you  one 
way  or  another,  and  tell  me  when  you  come 
back  if — if  you  will  marry  me?  Don't  try  to 
answer  me  now.  I  won't  take  your  answer 
now.  It  's  enough  to  know  that  you  know. 
I  had  to  tell  you ;  I  could  not  keep  it  to  myself 
any  longer,  but  I  want  you  to  have  time  to 
think — away  from  everything,  from — the  boy. 
Won't  you  trust  him  with  me?  " 

She  raised  her  head  quickly. 

He  understood. 

"  I  am  not  trying  to  repair  the  wrong  of  the 


Myles  Exacts  a  Promise         .219 

past.  It 's  you It 's — that  I  care  for  you 

alone." 

She  saw  the  muscles  about  his  mouth  quiver. 
He  put  out  his  hand  and  then  drew  it  back 
again. 

"Good-night,"  he  said  abruptly,  and  he 
was  gone. 

She  walked  upstairs  feeling  as  if  she  were 
in  a  dream.  She  went  out  on  to  the  balcony 
and  sank  down  on  a  chair.  The  distant  hills, 
the  pine  woods  bathed  in  the  evening  light, 
familiar  objects  in  the  quiet  garden  below — 
they  all  seemed  dreamlike,  shadowed  by  a 
new  significance. 

"Ought  I  to  have  known?"  she  said  to 
herself  again  and  again.  "  Have  I  been  utterly 
blind  and  stupid?  Last  night,  when  I  thought 
he  was  indifferent  and  did  not  want  my  thanks 
• — it  was  that." 

Could  it  be  true? 

She  shut  her  eyes  and  tried  to  recall  his  face, 
his  expression,  his  voice — everything  about 
him  as  he  had  stood  beside  her  on  the  stair. 
Then  she  thought  of  him  sitting  at  her  feet 
in  the  garden.  The  smallest  details  came 
back  to  her.  She  could  see  his  fingers  turning 
over  the  leaves  of  the  time-table. 

"And  he  was  thinking  that  all  the  time? 


220        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Thinking  of  me?  How  to  make  me  under- 
stand? I  'm  not  really  strong  and  indepen- 
dent, and  I  've  lived  such  a  cramped  life  for 
so  long.  Things  have  all  been  too  near.  I 
could  n't  see  properly.  I  could  n't  see  the 
big  things  because  the  little  things  seemed  so 
much  bigger." 

The  dusk  had  begun  to  fall;  but  she  sat 
on  motionless,  thinking,  doubting.  Would 
she  go  to  Cortina  or  not? 

The  darkness  closed  in,  and  Leopoldina 
came  out  on  to  the  balcony  and  discovered 
that  her  mistress  had  not  had  any  supper. 
Such  a  thing  was  not  to  be  permitted.  She 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  over  to  the  restau- 
rant and  procure  the  best  she  could  get.  All 
the  hot  dishes  would  be  cleared  away,  but 
coffee  and  rolls — and  cold  sausage?  Such 
things  were  procurable  at  any  hour. 

Cold  sausage!  To  be  confronted  with  cold 
sausage  when  all  one's  future  hung  in  the 
balance!  And  Leopoldina  was  so  suggestive 
of  the  merits  of  it  and  other  material  things. 
Rose  looked  at  her  abstractedly  for  a  moment, 
and  then  smiled.  She  could  almost  have 
laughed.  It  was  so  prosaic. 

"You  may  bring  me  some  coffee.  I  think 
that  will  be  enough,"  she  said. 


Myles  Exacts  a  Promise          221 

As  Leopoldina  was  going  she  called  her 
back  and  told  her  to  wait.  She  went  into 
the  room,  and  lighting  a  candle  opened  her 
writing-case  and  wrote  a  short  note  to  Ilka 
Rentier.  She  folded  and  sealed  it  up  quickly, 
and  gave  it  to  Leopoldina,  who  hurried  away. 

The  note  contained  only  a  few  lines: 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  ask  me  to  go 
with  you  to  Cortina  to-morrow.  I  accept  with 
pleasure.  What  time  do  we  start? — ROSE." 

"I  wonder  if  I  have  done  right?"  she  said 
to  herself  as  she  stood  looking  down  at  the 
sheet  of  blotting-paper,  where  the  impression 
of  the  writing  showed  dark  and  clear. 

She  closed  the  case,  and  went  softly  across 
the  room  into  the  nursery  beyond. 

Benjie  was  asleep.  Curly  Kate's  halo  of 
dusky  locks  made  a  dark  blot  on  the  white 
pillow.  She  stooped  and  kissed  the  curls 
above  his  forehead.  He  was  very  hot  and 
had  thrown  off  the  bedclothes,  and  the  tapes 
of  the  pink  pyjamas  had  loosened  in  all 
directions.  The  little  brown  hands,  thrown 
out  on  either  side,  were  tightly  clenched,  as 
though  he  held  on  to  something  in  his  dreams. 
He  babbled  unintelligibly  as  the  kiss  fell  on  his 


222        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

hair,  and  opened  his  eyes  wide  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  turned  over  on  his  side,  still  babbling, 
his  busy  brain  carrying  with  it  into  dreamland 
the  vitality  of  its  waking  hours. 

"To  go  away  from  you?  The  hardest 
thing  he  could  have  asked  of  me,"  she  mur- 
mured as  she  drew  the  sheet  up  over  the 
little  sleeping  form. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE     AUSFLUG     TO     CORTINA 

TTHE  hands  of  the  station  clock  were  point- 
I  ing  to  half -past  ten  when  Rose  and  Ilka 
Rentier  stepped  from  the  train  on  to  the  plat- 
form at  Toblach  the  following  morning.  They 
were  unencumbered  with  luggage,  save  for  two 
small  handbags  which  they  carried  themselves : 
the  expedition  was  to  be  conducted  on  lines 
of  Bohemian  simplicity. 

Ilka  was  exactly  the  right  kind  of  companion 
for  Rose  in  her  present  frame  of  mind.  She 
had  given  her  no  time  to  think  of  what  she 
was  leaving  behind,  or  what  would  await  her 
on  her  return.  She  was  enjoying  the  present 
moment  herself  with  the  zest  of  a  happy  child, 
and  she  intended  Rose  to  enjoy  it  also.  She 
knew  every  bit  of  the  country  through  which 
they  had  travelled.  From  the  moment  that 
the  train  crawled  out  from  under  the  frowning  ' 

battlements  of  the  great  fort  at  Franzensfeste, 

223 


224        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

which  guards  the  gloomy  portals  of  the 
Brenner  Pass,  until  they  reached  Toblach, 
there  was  not  a  Schloss  or  mountain  peak  in 
the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Pusterthal  of  which 
she  did  not  possess  some  quaint  little  piece 
of  knowledge. 

She  nodded  approval  at  the  station  clock 
as  they  passed  under  it. 

"The  fatiguing  part  of  our  journey  is 
already  over  before  it  becomes  too  hot,"  she 
said,  and  led  the  way  out  through  the  station 
to  the  square  at  the  back,  where  were  drawn 
up  against  the  curb  of  the  pavement  a  line  of 
vehicles  of  various  descriptions,  their  drivers 
vociferously  proclaiming  that  his  particular 
one  was  the  best  and  his  fare  the  most 
moderate. 

"Now  you  will  perceive  that  I  am  a  person 
of  very  good  business.  Naturlich  one  does 
not  give  them  what  they  ask.  I  make  a 
bargain." 

Ilka  understood  the  business  of  making  a 
bargain  very  well.  She  passed  down  the  line 
with  a  fixed  expression  on  her  face,  which 
no  wiles  or  protestations  from  the  clamouring 
drivers  could  melt.  She  had  almost  reached 
the  end  of  the  line,  when  an  exclamation  of 
pleasure  broke  from  her  lips. 


The  Ausflug  to  Cortina          225 

"Ach!  I  find  some  friends — Josef  and 
Lisa." 

A  little  hooded  Einspanner,  to  which  was 
yoked  a  large,  sleek,  black  mare,  was  drawn 
up  a  few  paces  apart  from  the  other  carriages. 
The  bronzed  face  of  the  Tyrolean  in  charge 
of  it  beamed  broadly  in  response  to  her 
recognition. 

Ilka  patted  the  black  mare's  fat  sides. 

"Ah,  Lisa!  How  well  you  look!  Of  more 
corpulence  than  ever ;  Josef  is  kind  to  you." 

Lisa  arched  her  neck  and  tossed  the  scarlet 
plumes  which  swept  her  forelock  and  dangled 
from  under  her  chin-band. 

"You  must  know,"  said  Ilka,  "that  Josef 
and  Lisa  have  driven  me  many  times.  They 
are  to  be  trusted,  and  will  suit  us  excellently." 

She  gave  the  bags  to  Josef,  who  stowed 
them  away  under  the  seat,  and  jumping  into 
the  Einspanner  she  held  out  both  hands  to 
Rose.  There  was  only  room  for  two  people  to 
sit  inside.  Josef  mounted  his  driving-box,  and 
cracking  his  whip,  Lisa  started  off  at  a  slow 
trot. 

Ilka  pushed  down  the  hood  which  Josef  had 
kept  up  to  preserve  his  red  velvet  cushions 
from  the  sun. 

"Are  we  not  an  amusing  speculation?    The 


226        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Einspanner  is  so  small  and  Lisa  is  so  large. 
Like  an  elephant  running  away  with  a  per- 
ambulator; but  she  will  take  us  to  Schluder- 
bach  most  easily.  That  is  half-way,  where  we 
will  lunch  and  rest.  From  there  we  procure 
a  more  extravagant  carriage  with  two  horses, 
for  when  we  travel  farther  into  the  Dolomiten 
there  is  more  steepness  of  the  road." 

The  recollection  of  that  drive  never  faded 
from  Rose's  memory.  Not  all  at  once  does 
the  wild  grandeur  of  the  Dolomites  break  on 
the  traveller's  eye.  At  first  the  broad,  yellow 
road  threads  its  way  like  a  golden  ribbon 
through  pine-clad  banks,  here  opening  up 
vistas  of  grassy  glades,  there  glimpses  of 
flowery  meadow,  and  the  tinkle  of  the  cow- 
bells tell  of  where  the  peasants  herd  tjieir 
droves.  Then  past  the  Toblacher  See,  that 
dark,  secretive,  little  lake  over  whose  shadowy 
surface  a  bygone  mystery  seems  ever  to  brood. 
On,  on  it  winds  its  golden  way,  and  towering 
to  the  skyline,  growing  ever  grander,  wilder, 
darker,  that  endless  range  of  mountain  wall 
cut  clear  against  the  heavenly  blue  of  the 
Tyrolean  sky.  Broken,  scarred,  serrated,  that 
mountain  wall  seems  to  glide  like  a  great  mov- 
ing picture  on  its  majestic  way.  Strange  and 
fantastic  are  the  forms  which  march  in  the 


The  Ausflug  to  Cortina          227 

mighty  procession.  Tumbled  masses  of  rock 
perched  at  dizzy  heights  on  slender  pinnacles, 
hover  like  monster  birds  of  prey  over  cleft 
and  chasm.  Every  bend  of  the  road  brings 
into  view  some  strange,  wild  shape,  some 
mammoth  freak  of  architectural  grandeur,  as 
though  a  giant  age  of  centuries  past  had  been 
uprooted,  and  flung  its  ruins  broadcast  to 
earth  and  sky. 

Sometimes  Ilka  talked,  sometimes  for  long 
intervals  she  was  silent,  her  love  of  beauty 
responding  to  Nature's  mood. 

"The  Monte  Cristallo,"  she  said,  laying  her 
hand  on  Rose's  arm,  and  pointing  to  a  range 
of  bristling  crags  throwing  their  snow-capped 
reflections  across  the  vivid  green  waters  of 
the  Durrensee. 

Rose  remembered.  It  was  the  Monte 
Cristallo  which  Myles  had  shown  her  that 
evening  in  his  sketch-book.  She  was  going 
over  the  same  ground  as  he  had  gone  over. 

She  fell  into  a  little  day-dream.  To-morrow 
she  would  be  back  at  Waldhof.  The  hours 
were  flying  very  fast,  and  absence  and  new 
scenes  and  new  influences  were  making  other 
things  fly  very  fast  too. 

It  was  close  upon  the  hour  for  the  mid-day 
meal  when  Josef  drew  Lisa  up  before  the 


228        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

door  of  the  hotel  at  Schluderbach.  Smiles 
and  bows  and  kissings  of  the  hand  greeted 
Ilka  as  she  made  her  way  into  the  Speise  Saal. 

"They  all  seem  to  know  you,"  said  Rose. 
"You  are  meeting  old  friends  everywhere." 

Ilka  laughed. 

"But  yes.  To-day  they  are  scattered  like 
crumbs."  She  explained  something  to  the 
head  waitress,  and  then  passed  on  through 
the  Speise  Saal  out  on  to  the  verandah,  where 
they  chose  a  table,  and  presently  their  lunch 
was  served  to  them. 

"I  'm  so  glad  we  came  out  here,"  said  Rose. 
"How  can  people  sit  in  a  stuffy  room  with 
all  this  loveliness  so  near?  " 

Beyond  the  strip  of  garden  stretched  the 
meadow  flats,  their  brilliant  green  broken  by 
clumps  of  scrubby  yew,  the  velvety  back- 
ground of  the  pines  encircling  them  to  where 
the  mountains  rose  on  every  side.  To  the 
right  the  sun-kissed  slopes  of  the  Croda  Rossa 
glowed  with  the  soft  pink  blush  which  is  the 
wonder  of  that  marvellous  land  of  light  and 
colour. 

"I  love  the  Dolomiten,"  said  Ilka.  "I 
never  forget  the  happy  days  I  spent  amongst 
its  mountains  with  my  parents  when  I  was  a 
child.  Here  at  Schluderbach  it  is  already  too 


The  Ausflug  to  Cortina  229 

civilised.  But  ah!  I  could  show  you  such 
glories  of  the  Misurina  and  the  Platz  Wiese 
when  it  is  one  pink  carpet  of  Alpen  Rosen. 
My  father  was  a  great  explorer,  and  with  him 
I  would  wander  for  long  days  of  delight,  and 
return  home  always  with  a  new  and  delicious 
discovery  and  a  happy  heart.  I  loved  the 
Dolomiten  then  with  a  child's  awakening  love 
for  beautiful  Nature,  and  I  love  it  now  with 
that  sense  fully  awakened — I  mean  as  fully 
awakened  as  it  can  be  in  one  as  imperfect 
as  I  am." 

' '  You  are  not  imperfect, ' '  said  Rose.  ' '  And 
I  think  you  are  one  of  the  most  to  be  envied 
people  I  have  ever  met.  You  know  how  to 
be  happy." 

"But  why  not?  I  find  the  world  very 
agreeable." 

"You  make  it  so." 

"Is  it  not  better  to  see  the  flowers  than 
the  dust  heaps?"  answered  Ilka,  smiling. 

"Every  one  cannot  do  that,"  said  Rose. 
"Do  you  know  that  you  make  me  want  to 
be  happy  too?  Do  you  remember  that  first 
time  you  came  up  and  spoke  to  me  in  the 
garden?  I  was  feeling  so  friendless.  Things 
seem  to  have  been  quite  different  since  then. 
Does  it  make  you  any  happier  to  know 


230        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

that  you  have  brought  sunshine  into  my 
life?" 

Ilka's  blue  eyes,  which  were  so  like  Rudolf's, 
were  gazing  up  at  the  glowing  slopes  of  the 
Croda  Rossa. 

"It  may  be  that  the  sunshine  was  but  wait- 
ing to  step  in,"  she  said. 

Rose  did  not  know  what  impelled  her  to  an- 
swer as  she  did.  It  sounded  rather  irrelevant. 

"Is  there  anything  in  the  world  so  difficult 
as  to  be  quite  honest  to  oneself- — to  be  able 
to  show  outside  what  one  really  is?" 

Ilka  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"To  whom  do  you  wish  to  appear  in  such 
deshabille?" 

Rose  rested  her  clasped  hands  on  the  table- 
cloth. Her  voice  trembled  a  little. 

"There  was  one  year  of  my  life — I  was  not 
true  to  myself — I  know  now  that  I  was  not. 
I  tried  to  deceive  myself.  That  kept  me  up, 
I  suppose.  Living  in  the  shadow  of  what  I 
thought  I  ought  to  be."  She  flushed  painfully. 
"My  girlhood  was  too  happy.  It  prepared 
me  for  nothing.  I  look  back  upon  it  with  a 
kind  of  passion  of  regret.  The  one  being  who 
loved  me  more  than,  all  the  world  made  it  so, 
and  when  she  left  me  I  did  not  know  how  to 
stand  alone,  and " 


The  Ausflug  to  Cortina  231 

A  wistfulness  crept  into  her  eyes.  She  did 
not  try  to  finish  her  sentence. 

Ilka  took  a  spray  of  bluebells  from  the 
flower  glass  on  the  table  and  laid  it  lightly  for 
a  moment  across  the  clasped  hands  on  the 
white  cloth. 

"Liebling,"  she  said,  with  unusual  gravity. 
"You  think  too  deeply.  It  is  not  wise.  There 
comes  a  time  when  it  is  well  to  shut  the  door 
and  to  open  the  window." 

"But — if  there  were  something — some  one 
to  whom  it  mattered  very  much.  Would  not 
it  be  better  if  the  door  were  not  shut?  If  they 
could  see — I  mean  know  that " 

Ilka  shook  the  little  bells  one  against  the 
other. 

"For  myself,"  she  said,  "I  find  that  it  is 
not  agreeable  altogether  to  desillusionner  the 
world  about  oneself.  Do  you  understand? 
Have  we  not  all  our  shut  doors?  Oh,  but  yes, 
of  course." 

A  heavy  footstep  was  heard  crossing  the 
verandah.  Some  one  stopped  just  at  the  back 
of  Ilka's  chair. 

"Ach,  Josef!"  she  exclaimed,  turning 
quickly. 

Josef  held  his  little  green  Tyrolean  hat  in 
his  hand  and  twirled  it  round  and  round 


232        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

diffidently.  He  had  come  to  inquire  if  the 
hochwohlgeborene  Grafin  would  permit  him  to 
drive  her  the  remainder  of  the  way  to  Cortina? 
He  could  procure  a  most  comfortable  carriage 
and  a  pair  of  fresh  horses,  and  he  would  charge 
much  less  than  would  a  new  driver. 

Ilka  listened  to  his  explanations.  The  sug- 
gestion pleased  her,  but  she  took  care  to  make 
a  bargain  with  him  all  the  same. 

"  Such  a  thing  is  always  necessary,"  she  said, 
after  she  had  dismissed  him. 

The  interruption  had  caused  a  break,  and 
Ilka  did  not  try  to  bring  the  conversation  back 
to  its  former  vein.  She  did  not  wish  to  do 
so ;  she  flashed  off  to  something  quite  different. 
She  pointed  with  her  coffee  cup  towards  the 
jagged  peaks  of  the  Monte  Cristallo. 

"I  wish  that  we  had  but  time  to  climb  a 
mountain.  Do  you  not  also?"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  do,"  said  Rose, 
doubtfully. 

"Oh,  but  it  is  glorious!  Last  summer  I 
again  make  a  visit  to  Cortina,  and  I  conspire 
with  a  friend  to  climb  a  mountain.  It  was  a 
great  secret,  because  our  husbands  say  'No,' 
it  was  dangerous.  Pouf!  Dangerous?  Not  at 
all.  We  start  very  early  in  the  morning,  and 
leave  them  sleeping  most  peacefully  in  their 


The  Ausflug  to  Cortina          233 

beds.  It  was  necessary  to  drive  a  long  way, 
and  after  that  a  most  steep  climb  to  get  to 
the  rocks,  and  then  the  fun  began.  We  took 
off  our  skirts!  Ought  I  to  jump  this  bit?  But 
never  mind,  for  it  was  not  improper,  because 
we  already  wore  kinkers.  Knickers — what  do 
you  call  them?  Then  the  rope  was  fastened 
round  our  waists  and  we  began.  It  was  grand ; 
for  our  guide  said  we  would  not  get  up,  and 
we  did,  but  in  such  a  state!  My  friend  had 
got  a  big  tear  in  her  kinkers,  and  I  had  an 
enormous  hole  in  all  my  stockings.  And 
when  we  had  to  do  the  most  difficult  bit  we 
saw  a  photographer  with  his  Apparat  sitting 
at  the  bottom  to  watch  us  with  the  greatest 
interest.  I  could  have  kicked  stones  on  to 
him.  I  had  one  foot  on  one  rock,  and  the 
other  on  another,  and  no  skirt!  Imagine  to 
be  photographed  by  a  professional  in  that 
position.  We  howled  with  despair,  but  he 
only  shouted  'Bravo!'  and  ran  away;  and 
then — he  put  the  photographs  in  his  shop 
window,  and  when  our  husbands  see  them 
there  was  a  great  tragedy.  But  we  had  a 
grand  time,  and  twenty-five  blue  spots  on  my 
legs,  and  all  our  arms  were  stiff  the  next  day." 
Rose  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  laughed 
until  she  almost  cried. 


234        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Ilka  took  out  her  cigarette  case  and  lit  a 
cigarette. 

"When  you  have  finished  your  coffee,"  she 
said,  "we  will  go  for  a  little  walk,  and  then 
Josef  will  be  ready  and  we  start  once  more 
for  Cortina."  She  looked  up  at  the  cloudless 
sky.  "Are  we  not  fortunate?  The  sun  is 
going  to  shine  upon  us  all  day." 

But  her  prophecy  was  not  fulfilled.  They 
had  proceeded  only  a  very  short  way  from 
Schluderbach  when  rolling  banks  of  cloud 
appeared  out  of  the  blue,  and  before  long 
mountain  and  valley  were  veiled  in  thick 
wreaths  of  floating  vapour.  The  mist  had  a 
weird  fascination  of  its  own.  Through  rents 
in  the  clouds  huge  forms  would  steal  out  and 
then  disappear  again  with  the  suddenness  of 
some  ghostly  apparition;  or  a  stray  sunbeam 
piercing  the  white  shroud  would  strike  a 
brilliant  shaft  of  rainbow  light  down  the 
mountain  side,  scattering  for  an  instant  the 
mystery  of  the  unseen,  and  illuminating  with 
wild,  unearthly  beauty  some  deep,  dark  gorge 
or  lofty,  snow-capped  peak. 

As  the  broad  yellow  road  penetrated  deeper 
into  the  heart  of  the  country  its  windings 
grew  steeper,  its  curves  sharper;  in  places 
cutting  into  the  solid  face  of  the  rock  and 


The  Ausflug  to  Cortina          235 

hanging  almost  in  mid-air  over  some  yawning 
chasm.  At  one  point  in  the  road  Josef  made 
his  passengers  alight  and  look  over  the  side 
of  a  bridge  to  see  the  famous  Schlucht. 

Ilka  had  seen  the  Schlucht  many  times 
before,  but  she  sat  on  the  parapet  and  threw 
stones  down  into  it  and  greeted  it  joyfully 
as  another  old  friend. 

As  the  carriage  rolled  out  into  the  valley 
and  along  the  straight  stretch  of  road  which 
runs  at  the  base  of  the  great  Pomagagon 
Range,  the  mist  swept  back  and  the  sun 
blazed  out.  Ilka  stood  up  and  pointed  eagerly 
to  the  first  glimpse  of  Cortina,  lying  like  a 
handful  of  scattered  rose  leaves  in  the  cup- 
like  basin  of  the  Ampezzothal.  Presently  they 
were  driving  through  the  main  street  of  the 
little  town,  and  her  head  was  perpetually  turn- 
ing from  side  to  side,  her  expressive  gestures 
marking  approval  or  disapproval  of  whatever 
changes  met  her  eye. 

"Another  new  hotel — which  will  be  a 
monster  of  hideousness ! "  she  exclaimed,  mak- 
ing a  grimace  at  a  building  round  which  the 
scaffoldings  were  still  standing.  "  But  Cortina 
will  soon  become  too  modern  altogether.  We 
do  not  go  to  an  hotel — not  even  to  that  one," 
and  she  indicated  with  her  parasol  the  quaint 


236        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

old  fagade  of  the  Stella  d'Or,  standing  back 
from  the  thoroughfare  behind  its  sheltering 
hedge  of  clipped  trees. 

She  tapped  Josef  on  the  back. 

"To  the  Villa  Apollonia,"  she  said,  and, 
turning  to  Rose,  explained:  "It  is  not  an 
hotel.  Oh  no!  It  is  a  Patisserie,  kept  by  a 
charming  family  of  Italians,  where  I  have 
lodged  many  times.  There  we  sleep,  for  the 
beds  are  most  comfortable.  We  go  out  to 
eat  at  whatever  restaurant  we  find  most 
amusing.  On  an  expedition  such  as  this  I 
pick  here  and  I  pick  there." 

The  Villa  Apollonia  received  its  visitors  with 
open  arms.  The  pretty  girls  in  their  pictur- 
esque costumes  who  were  serving  in  the  cafe 
ran  out  to  the  door,  laughing  and  chattering 
as  only  Italians  can.  Ilka  had  a  greeting  for 
every  one.  The  fat  little  mother  she  dis- 
covered in  the  kitchen  in  the  act  of  turning 
out  a  huge  dish  of  Polenta  for  her  family. 
Ilka  helped  to  cut  up  the  Polenta,  Italian 
fashion,  with  a  piece  of  string,  and  the  fat  little 
mother  held  her  sides  and  laughed  delightedly. 

Was  the  gracious  Contessa  to  make  a  long 
stay  in  Cortina?  The  best  rooms  in  the  Villa 
Apollonia  would  be  at  her  disposal,  and  that 
of  the  Signorina  her  friend. 


The  Ausflug  to  Cortina          237 

" Signora,"  corrected  Ilka;  "and  we  stay  but 
one  night.  Therefore  we  are  very  busy  to 
make  the  time  long,  and  we  wish  to  have 
our  chocolate  now,  at  once,  and  then  we  amuse 
ourselves. 

"But  not  in  running  about  with  a  guide- 
book and  staring  until  our  eyes  wish  to  jump 
out  of  our  heads,"  she  remarked,  as  a  few 
minutes  later  they  sat  sipping  their  chocolate 
under  the  striped  awnings.  "It  is  the  mise 
en  scene;  the  colour  and  the  life  and  the 
beauty  of  the  roundabouts  of  such  a  place 
which  I  find  agreeable." 

Therefore  they  did  nothing  which  a  con- 
scientious tourist  ought  to  do.  They  did  not 
climb  to  the  top  of  the  Campanile,  nor  did 
they  drive  out  to  the  Belvedere,  and  yet  the 
next  two  hours  passed  very  quickly,  for  Ilka's 
knowledge  of  what  she  called  the  roundabouts 
of  Cortina  was  more  interesting  than  a  dozen 
guide-books. 

"And  the  end  of  the  day  brings  the  most 
beautiful  thing  of  all,"  she  said,  "when  we 
watch  the  Alpen  Glow  descend  upon  the 
mountains." 

At  the  Croce  Bianca  they  had  supper:  a 
small  restaurant  whose  modest  row  of  white- 
clothed  tables  were  set  out  on  the  pavement 


238        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

flanking  the  main  street.  Ilka  chose  it  because 
of  its  simplicity,  and  because  they  could  sit 
and  watch  the  bright  little  world  of  Cortina 
moving  before  them.  It  was  the  hour  when 
every  one  seemed  to  be  abroad  in  the  streets: 
the  cafes  and  restaurants  were  busy:  merry, 
laughing  groups  collecting  round  the  tables, 
jostling  each  other  in  the  roadway;  Italian 
voices  predominating  over  the  more  guttural 
German,  for  the  atmosphere  and  temperament 
of  the  South  are  very  present  with  you  in 
Cortina. 

The  Belluno  diligence  rattled  past  with 
much  cracking  of  whips  and  jingling  of  har- 
ness. A  fat  Italian  nurse,  with  a  big  ruche  of 
blue  ribbon  round  her  head  and  streamers 
flowing,  swayed  and  lurched  on  the  back  seat, 
clasping  two  tired,  dusty  little  children  in  her 
arms. 

Rose  wondered  if  that  was  the  same  dili- 
gence which  Myles  had  travelled  in.  She 
watched  it  out  of  sight,  still  wondering,  and 
looked  round  to  find  that  Ilka  had  left  the 
table  and  run  out  into  the  road,  where  she  was 
talking  to  a  group  of  people. 

"Only  think,"  she  exclaimed,  when  she 
returned,  "the  friend  of  whom  I  told  you — 
who  climbed  a  mountain  with  me — is  here  in 


The  Ausflug  to  Cortina          239 

Cortina,  and  she  has  broken  her  leg  climbing 
another  mountain!  Is  it  not  a  tragedy?  I 
have  promised  to  go  and  see  her  this  evening. 
You  will  not  be  angry  with  me?  " 

"Angry?    Oh,  no." 

"I  do  not  ask  you  to  come  with  me,  for 
broken  legs  are  not  amusing,  and  naturlich 
she  will  talk  much.  But  we  will  walk  together 
to  her  villa,  and  near  it  there  is  a  charming 
spot  where  you  can  sit  and  watch  the  Alpen 
Glow.  Will  that  be  agreeable  to  you?  I  will 
try  not  to  be  long." 

"Please  don't  trouble  about  me,"  said  Rose. 
"  I  shall  sit  and  wait  for  you." 

The  sun  was  sinking  low  towards  the  hill- 
tops when  they  left  the  town  and  climbed  the 
ascent  to  where  a  few  scattered  villas  dotted 
the  grassy  slope  facing  westwards.  Ilka's 
friend  lived  in  one  of  the  highest  up  of  the 
villas,  but  she  led  the  way  past  it  by  a  side- 
path  and  came  out  on  a  bit  of  open  ground 
strewn  with  rocks  and  boulders,  and  where  the 
wild  flowers  grew  thick  in  the  mossy  turf. 

"From  here  I  saw  my  first  sunset  at  Cor- 
tina," she  said,  stopping  and  laying  her  hand 
on  Rose's  shoulder.  "I  have  never  forgotten 
that  time.  Rudi  was  here  also,  and  my 
parents.  It  was  one  of  those  glorious  evenings 


240        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

that  seem  almost  too  happy  to  be  of  this 
world.  First  the  mountains  became  golden, 
and  then  pink  like  the  heart  of  a  rose,  and  then 
violet  and  purple.  We  sat  on  the  grass  among 
the  flowers,  that  smelt  like  only  Alpen  flowers 
can  smell,  and  watched  the  shadows  grow 
deeper  and  deeper  around  us,  as  if  Nature 
suddenly  became  sad  after  having  been  glori- 
ously happy." 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  then  she 
pointed  across  the  valley. 

"See!  the  Alpen  Glow  is  already  beginning 
to  kiss  the  Cinque  Torn.  Is  it  not  like  a 
piece  of  heaven?  And  alas!  I  go  away  to 
talk  of  broken  legs!  Are  you  quite  sure 
you  do  not  feel  alarmed  to  be  left  here 
alone?" 

"No,"  answered  Rose.  "I  do  not  feel  at 
all  alarmed." 

After  Ilka  had  disappeared  round  a  bend 
in  the  pathway  she  walked  on  a  little  farther, 
until  she  came  to  a  place  where  a  craggy  rock 
stood  out  from  the  sloping  bank  above.  It 
was  not  difficult  to  scramble  up  its  side,  and 
she  found  the  summit  crowned  by  a  thatch 
of  heather  and  fern.  She  sank  down  close  to 
the  overhanging  ledge,  and  burrowed  a  little 
nest  for  herself  in  the  soft  ground. 


The  Ausflug  to  Cortina          241 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  been  alone  that 
day,  and  in  a  moment  her  thoughts  were  back 
at  Waldhof .  Benjie  would  be  asleep — or  ought 
to  be.  She  wondered  if  Myles  had  kept  his 
promise  and  taken  the  child  out  with  him. 
She  leaned  back  against  the  bank  of  heather 
and  drew  in  a  deep  breath  of  the  warm,  scented 
air.  She  had  been  longing  for  this  hour  of 
solitude  so  as  to  have  leisure  to  think,  and 
now  her  thoughts  frightened  her.  To-morrow 
began  to  loom  before  her,  gigantic  and  fateful. 
To-morrow  she  would  be  back  at  Waldhof. 
How  was  she  to  answer  that  question? 

She  sat  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  glory 
of  the  western  sky.  The  sun  had  sunk  to 
rest  in  its  bed  of  crimson  and  gold;  the  Alpen 
Glow  was  flushing  the  hill-tops,  the  purple 
shadows  creeping  stealthily  across  the  valley. 
Sweet,  subtle  scents  breathed  out  their  fra- 
grance. Nature  was  so  beautiful — the  world 
so  full  of  wonderful  possibilities. 

"But  I  must  be  quite  sure,"  she  murmured. 
"I  wish  something  would  happen  to  show  me 
— myself." 

Her  eyes  were  blinded  to  what  lay  beneath 
by  the  gorgeous  splendour  of  the  flaming  sky. 
Something  roused  her  with  a  start.  Something 
soft  and  fragrant  fell  with  a  little  flop  into 

16 


242        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

her  lap.  It  was  a  bunch  of  wild  flowers,  tied 
together  by  a  wisp  of  grass. 

She  bent  forward  and  looked  over  the  side 
of  the  rock.  Rudolf  Scholan  was  standing 
immediately  below  her.  His  head  was  thrown 
back  and  his  eyes  were  laughing  up  into  hers. 

"Herr  Baron!"  she  exclaimed  in  astonish- 
ment. "Where  have  you  come  from? " 


CHAPTER  XX 

A     PASSIONATE     LOVER 

DUDOLF  swung  himself  up  to  the  top  of 
•*•  ^  the  crag  and  stood  with  his  hand  raised 
to  the  peaked  brim  of  his  hat. 

"Where  have  you  come  from?"  asked  Rose 
again. 

He  laughed,  and  dropped  down  on  the 
ground  beside  her. 

"I  have  run  away,"  he  said. 

"That  means  you  have  done  something 
you  ought  not  to  have  done." 

She  spoke  as  if  she  were  scolding  Benjie. 
In  some  ways  this  odd  creature  was  quite  as 
irresponsible. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Natiirlich,  if  I  am  found  out — but  I  can  run 
back  again  very  quickly.  As  the  bird  flies, 
our  camp  for  to-night  is  not  at  such  a  great 
distance. ' '  He  flicked  some  dust  from  his  long 

243 


244        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

riding-boots.  "I  travel  through  the  moun- 
tains. So  far  by  horse,  and  so  far  by  leg." 

"Straight  to  this  place !  How  did  you  know 
where  to  come?  " 

He  glanced  round. 

"  But  of  course  I  knew  that  Ilka  would  bring 
you  here.  Where  is  she  ? ' ' 

The  reason  of  Ilka's  absence  was  explained. 

"Is  the  leg  very  much  broken? "  he  asked. 

Rose  said  that  she  was  afraid  it  was,  and 
he  murmured  to  himself:  "Gott  sei  dank! 
Then  there  will  be  much  talk."  But  she 
did  not  hear,  and  drew  his  attention  to  the 
sunset. 

"Is  n't  it  glorious?  I  hope  Ilka  won't  miss 
it  all." 

He  did  not  turn  his  head  to  look. 

"The  Sonnenuntergang  is  beautiful,  and  I 
am  very  fond  of  my  sister,  but  it  was  not  for 
such  things  that  I  come  to  Cortina.  It  was 
to  see  you.  I  come  all  these  miles  across  the 
mountains  to  see  you." 

She  thought  it  only  one  of  his  extrava- 
gances of  speech  to  talk  so,  and  answered 
lightly: 

"I  don't  expect  it  is  the  first  time  you  have 
run  across  the  mountains  to  Cortina.  You 
seem  to  know  all  about  it." 


A  Passionate  Lover  245 

Her  sight  was  blinded  by  the  Alpen  Glow, 
and  she  did  not  see  the  expression  that  came 
over  his  face,  but  to  her  alarm  she  felt 
both  her  hands  seized  and  covered  with 
kisses. 

"Herr  Baron!"  she  exclaimed,  wrenching 
them  free.  "Don't!  I  can't  bear  to  have  my 
hands  kissed — you  know  that." 

Rudolf's  blue  eyes  flashed. 

"You  do  not  believe  that  I  come  to  Cortina 
to  see  you?  But  it  is  true,  for  I  love  you,  I 
love  you,  I  love  you!"  he  cried  excitedly. 
"All  yesterday  I  did  not  see  you.  Since  two 
nights  ago  when  we  made  the  fete  in  the 
garden  I  have  not  seen  you.  It  was  unsup- 
portable;  I  could  not  bear  such  absence  any 
longer." 

She  sat  speechless.  She  did  not  know  what 
to  say,  for  he  was  in  earnest.  She  was  hor- 
rified, aghast;  what  she  had  taken  for  an  air- 
bubble  was  a  bomb,  and  it  had  exploded  at 
her  feet. 

"You  must  not  say  such  things.  I — I  don't 
believe  you  mean  them,"  was  all  she  could 
stammer  at  last. 

"Mean  them?  You  think  that  I  do  not 
know  what  this  love  is?  Gottl  but  I  tell  you 
it  is  burning  me  up  in  flames!  It  is  different 


246        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

to  any  love  which  has  ever  been  in  my  heart 
before!" 

"I — I  am  so  sorry." 

He  threw  out  his  arms  with  a  tragic  gesture. 

"And  it  makes  me  feel  that  I  want  to  be 
good!  Such  a  feeling  is  most  strange  to  me. 
I  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  it." 

There  was  a  world  of  appeal  in  his  voice. 
Why  could  she  not  understand? 

"Can  you  not  love  me?  Will  you  not  try 
to  love  me?  If  you  tell  me  of  some  things 
that  would  make  me  agreeable  to  you  I  will 
do  them.  There  is  nothing  in  the  world  I 
would  not  do  to  make  you  love  me." 
'  "It  is — impossible/ '  she  murmured. 

"But  I  have  had  such  hopes!  You  have 
never  been  cold  to  me.  Many  times  you  have 
smiled  upon  me  when  you  have  not  smiled 
upon  others.  And — you  wore  my  roses! 
The  roses  of  your  name!  You  would  not 
have  done  such  things  only  to  break  my 
heart?" 

She  felt  she  could  have  wept  tears  of  self- 
reproach.  It  was  quite  true  she  had  never 
been  cold  to  him;  she  had  never  thought  it 
necessary  to  be  cold  to  him.  He  had  suddenly 
sprung  into  the  colourless  monotony  of  her  life, 
and  she  had  accepted  his  boyish  admiration 


A  Passionate  Lover  247 

without  a  thought  of  its  seriousness.  She  was 
as  unprepared  for  this  as  she  had  been  for 
those  few  quiet  words  of  the  night  before. 
And  she  ought  to  have  known.  Her  woman's 
instinct  ought  to  have  told  her.  Why  had  it 
not?  She  had  been  selfish,  self-centred,  blind. 
She  had  allowed  this  thing. 

Rudolf  was  pleading  with  eager,  impas- 
sioned gestures. 

"Why  do  you  not  speak?  I  ask  you  to 
say:  'I  love  you.'  It  is  not  difficult.  I  have 
said  these  words  many  times.  They  are  not 
difficult  words." 

At  the  naivete  of  it,  she  found  herself 
struggling  between  tears  and  laughter.  Rudolf 
was  not  offended,  but  he  was  puzzled. 

"You  find  that  amusing?"  he  asked. 
"Why?" 

Dared  she  remind  him  of  that  long  list  of 
loves  to  which  he  had  confessed?  If  he  could 
only  be  persuaded  to  treat  this  in  the  same 
way.  She  hurried  on,  explanatory,  apologetic, 
and  with  a  guilty  consciousness  that  she  was 
taking  a  mean  advantage  of  his  ingenuousness. 

"You  said  yourself — that  morning,  do  you 
remember,  when  we  had  coffee  together  in 
the  garden — that — that  there  had  been  so 
many.  I  thought  it  was  just  like  that.  I — I 


248        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

never  thought  you  were  in  earnest.  Really 
I  did  not.  Please  let  us  think  so.  Don't 
let  us  take  this  seriously " 

She  had  said  the  wrong  thing. 

"You  do  not  understand!"  he  broke  out 
vehemently.  "I  wish  for  to  marry  you!  I 
did  not  wish  for  to  marry  any  of  these  other 
loves.  It  is  not  necessary  to  marry  all  one's 
loves,  but  I  love  you  to  distraction,  and  I 
want  to  marry  you." 

She  put  up  her  hands  to  her  ears. 

"Oh,  please  don't  talk  like  that!  Please 
let  us  go  back  to  being  friends,  the  way  we 
were  before,  and  not  talk  about  love  at  all!" 

"Gott  Himmel!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  I 
was  never  anything  but  a  lover  from  the  be- 
ginnings!" He  scanned  her  face  searchingly. 
"Why  can  you  not  love  me?  Ah! — someone 
has  told  you  that  I  am  a  dangerous  man." 

No.  It  had  never  occurred  to  her  to  think 
of  Rudolf  as  a  dangerous  man ! 

"I  am  not  a  monument  of  stone!"  he  cried 
recklessly.  "Oh  no,  not  at  all!"  He  bent 
nearer.  "You  have  heard  stories  about  me? 
It  is  because  you  have  been  told  that  I  am  a 
dangerous  man  that  you  will  not  listen  to  me?" 

He  was  getting  more  and  more  excited, 
and  she  felt  her  control  over  him  slipping 


A  Passionate  Lover  249 

away.  She  was  a  little  afraid,  but  she  must 
not  show  it. 

"I  have  not  heard  any  stories  about  you, 
and  I  would  not  have  listened  to  them  if  I 
had.  I  want  to  like  you,  and  to  think  what 
is  good  of  you,"  she  said  gently. 

"Like!  Aber  nein!  You  give  me  that 
word  before,  and  I  had  no  use  for  it !" 

He  flung  himself  away  from  her,  and  sat 
staring  at  the  glowing  sky.  He  did  not  see 
it.  His  face  had  lost  its  look  of  boyish  care- 
lessness. In  all  his  gay  young  life  he  had 
never  been  thwarted  in  love,  and  he  could  not 
understand  denial.  Why  would  she  not  listen 
to  him?  There  must  be  a  reason. 

He  was  very  quiet.  She  would  have  done 
better  not  to  have  spoken. 

"I  am  so  sorry  that  I  let  you  think  that 

I  meant  anything  but  friendship,"  she  said. 

'Please  forgive  me.     What  you  ask  is  quite 

impossible.     One — cannot  give  what  one  has 

not  got." 

"Ah!"  He  turned  on  her  with  such  vehe- 
mence that  she  drew  back,  startled,  and  with 
a  fresh  fear.  The  light  in  his  eyes  was  a 
revelation.  She  could  not  have  believed  that 
he  was  capable  of  looking  like  that;  un- 
wittingly, she  had  given  him  the  key  to  the 


250        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

puzzle.  ' '  You  cannot  give  what  you  have  not 
got?  Then  there  is  some  one  else!  Only 
such  can  be  the  reason.  You  are  so  sure. 
You  could  not  be  so  sure  if  there  was  not 
some  one  else." 

She  could  not  find  a  single  word  to  answer 
him  with.  He  had  told  her  what  she  had 
nor  dared  to  admit  to  herself.  "If  something 
would  only  happen  to  show  me  myself?" 
had  been  the  question  on  her  lips  whilst  she 
sat  dreaming  in  the  rosy  light  of  the  Alpen 
Glow,  and  Rudolf  had  come,  and  answered 
the  question. 

How  much  more  would  he  guess?  He  was 
watching  her,  demanding  an  answer.  A  kind 
of  despair  seized  her.  She  could  never  make 
him  understand,  because  she  could  not  ex- 
plain. She  was  quite  free,  no  promise  bound 
her;  Myles  had  exacted  nothing.  She  wished 

She  caught  her  breath  with  a  little 

gasp.  She  wished  that  he  had  not  left  her 
so  free. 

And  Rudolf  must  be  answered. 

"There  is  some  one  else ! "  he  kept  repeating. 
His  burning  eyes  never  left  her  face,  and  their 
expression  frightened  her. 

He  was  fast  losing  patience.  To  stand 
aside  and  see  another  man  take  his  place? 


A  Passionate  Lover  251 

That  had  never  been  his  way  in  love.  Young, 
strong,  ardent,  he  was  vividly  alive  to  the 
power  of  a  woman's  charm,  but  no  experi- 
ence had  prepared  him  for  this!  His  fickle 
fancies  had  never  given  him  a  heartache; 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  win  so  easily. 
Now,  with  all  the  fire  of  his  emotional  nature 
roused,  repulse  met  his  hot  ardour.  He  did 
not  stop  to  think  that  if  she  loved  another 
man  he  was  only  beating  the  air  by  trying  to 
win  her  for  himself.  Uppermost  in  his  mind, 
surging  through  his  veins  and  throbbing  in 
every  pulse  and  nerve,  was  the  dominating, 
clamouring  cry  for  his  heart's  desire. 

"I  will  not  give  you  up  to  any  man!  You 
are  mine !  I  take  you,  I  keep  you !" 

The  hoarse  voice  did  not  sound  like  Rudolf's, 
and  it  was  not  the  reflection  of  the  crimson 
sky  which  made  him  look  so  strange. 

Rose  fought  against  the  paralysing  sensa- 
tion of  fear  which  was  creeping  nearer  and 
nearer  to  her.  He  had  called  himself  a  dan- 
gerous man — perhaps  he  was.  She  did  not 
know  what  wild  strain  might  run  in  his  blood; 
she  glanced  round  fearfully.  The  shadows 
were  deepening;  the  hillside  was  deserted; 
she  was  quite  alone  with  him,  and  he  was 
strung  up  to  a  pitch  of  excitement  that  a 


252        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

look  or  a  word  might  put  him  beyond  her 
power. 

Suddenly  he  leaned  forward  and  again 
caught  her  hands  in  his  and  covered  them 
with  kisses.  His  lips  seemed  to  burn  her  skin. 
Her  instinct  was  to  tear  herself  free,  but  he 
held  her  in  so  tight  a  grasp  that  she  knew  it 
was  useless.  The  humiliation  of  a  struggle 
she  would  not  have.  She  bit  her  lips  hard  to 
stop  their  quivering. 

"Let  me  go!"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"You  are  hurting  me!" 

His  blazing  eyes  flashed  defiance  at  her. 

"It  is  love,  and  love  cannot  hurt!" 

"Let  me  go!"  she  repeated. 

Still  he  held  her,  tighter  than  before.  She 
was  quite  at  his  mercy.  Her  tongue  was  her 
only  weapon,  and  she  was  so  afraid  that  her 
voice  would  show  how  frightened  she  was. 
By  an  immense  effort  she  kept  it  under  control. 

"You  said  I  made  you  feel  good.  Do  you 
call  this  being  good?  Is  this  the  way  to  show 
love — to  try  and  frighten  me?  Where  is 
your  chivalry?" 

Her  heart  was  beating  fast,  but  she  met  his 
eyes  unflinchingly.  She  saw  the  struggle. 
Every  muscle  of  his  face  was  working,  and 
his  breath  came  and  went  in  quick  gasps. 


A  Passionate  Lover  253 

Then  she  felt  his  fingers  tremble;  their  grip 
relaxed.  With  a  strangled  sob  he  tore  him- 
self away  and,  flinging  himself  down  at  her 
feet,  he  buried  his  face  in  the  grass. 

"Ach,  mein  Gott!"  he  cried  brokenly. 
"What  shall  I  do?  I  am  altogether  mad. 
I  am  nothing  but  a  brute.  You  will  never 
forgive  me.  You  will  never  speak  to  me 
again.  I  am  the  most  miserable  man  in  all 
the  world!" 

The  crisis  was  past.  From  the  height  of 
passion  he  had  sunk  to  the  depths  of  despair. 
Rose  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  but  she  felt 
she  could  have  wept  herself,  she  was  so  sorry 
for  him.  It  was  her  own  fault  that  this  had 
happened.  It  seemed  altogether  hard  and 
cruel  and  unreasonable  that  he  had  been  made 
to  show  himself  in  this  hateful  light  because 
he  loved  her. 

She  did  not  dare  to  comfort  him;  and  when 
presently  he  moved,  and  raised  his  head,  she 
turned  away,  thinking  he  would  not  like  her 
to  be  a  witness  to  his  self-abasement. 

But  Rudolf  did  not  think  of  that.  It  was 
characteristic  of  him  to  be  quite  unselfcon- 
scious  as  to  how  he  looked.  He  thought  that 
her  attitude  meant  that  she  still  shrank  from 
him;  timidly  he  touched  the  hem  of  her  dress. 


254        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"Will  you  not  speak  to  me?  Are  you  so 
angry  with  me  that  you  will  never  look  at  me 
again?" 

His  humility  made  her  self-reproach  the 
more  acute.  The  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 

"I  was  angry — but  now  I  am  more  sorry 
than  angry." 

"Sorry?"  he  repeated;  "but  that  is  to  be 
sad?" 

"Oh,  don't  you  understand?  I  hated  to 
feel  that  you  had  disappointed  me.  I  want 
always  to  think  of  you  as  I  have  known  you — 
chivalrous,  and — truly  a  gentleman." 

"You  say  such  things  and  yet  it  is  not  pos- 
sible for  you  to  give  me  one  small  piece  of 
love?" 

"Not  in  the  way  you  mean,"  she  answered 
gently. 

He  gazed  at  her  mournfully. 

"Then  there  is  nothing  more  for  me  to  do. 
All  is  over.  I  must  learn  to — plier  la  tete," 
and  he  took  off  his  hat. 

The  light  fell  on  his  uncovered  head;  his 
boyish,  sun-browned  face  looked  so  young, 
and  so  tragically  miserable.  She  longed  to 
comfort  him  as  she  would  have  comforted  a 
hurt  child,  but  she  dared  not.  He  was  of  too 
inflammable  a  nature  to  pity  lightly. 


A  Passionate  Lover  255 

She  wished  Ilka  would  come  back.  She 
strained  her  eyes  to  follow  the  windings  of 
the  little  path  below,  and  thought  she  saw  the 
flutter  of  a  white  dress.  It  disappeared  be- 
hind a  rock,  and  then  appeared  again.  Ilka's 
voice  called  out  her  name,  and  she  answered. 

Rudolf  raised  his  head.  His  drooping 
shoulders  straightened,  and  the  next  moment 
he  had  sprung  to  his  feet,  his  slim  figure 
clearly  outlined  against  the  sky. 

"Ros— a?" 

Ilka's  voice  floated  up  to  them. 

Rudolf  made  a  curious  sound,  soft  and 
low,  like  the  wakening  call  of  a  bird  at 
dawn. 

Ilka  had  drawn  quite  near. 

"Rudi!"  she  exclaimed  in  astonishment. 
"Is  it  indeed  Rudi  that  I  see?" 

"But  yes.  Did  you  think  that  it  was  the 
Abends  tern  fallen  from  heaven?"  he  cried, 
and  sprang  down  the  side  of  the  rock. 

Rose  could  hear  their  laughing  voices  below. 
Rudolf  was  giving  an  extraordinary  explana- 
tion of  how,  and  why,  he  happened  to  be 
where  he  was.  How  much  of  it  would  Ilka 
believe?  she  wondered.  It  was  impossible 
to  tell.  A  few  minutes  later  the  two  scrambled 
up  the  rock  together,  and  Ilka  sat  down  on 


256        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

the  grass  and  held  out  her  hand  to  Rudolf  and 
demanded  a  cigarette. 

"Or  else  I  die  at  once!"  she  exclaimed. 
"I  am  altogether  exhausted  with  talking  of 
broken  legs!" 

If  Rose  had  seen  the  contents  of  a  hurried 
letter  which  Ilka  wrote  to  her  husband  that 
night  before  she  went  to  bed,  she  would  have 
had  no  doubts  as  to  Ilka's  powers  of 
observation: 

"You  will  please  me  by  keeping  Rudi  very 
busy  for  some  days.  Give  him  so  much  work 
to  do  that  he  will  not  find  any  time  to  think 
of  the  beaux  yeux  of  a  certain  charming  lady 
whose  name  it  is  needless  to  mention." 

"Fritz  will  understand,"  she  said  to  herself 
as  she  sealed  up  the  letter. 

It  was  quite  natural  that  Rudolf  should 
have  fallen  in  love  with  Rose,  but  the  affair 
must  not  be  allowed  to  become  too  serious. 
Ilka  had  her  own  views  for  Rudolf's  matri- 
monial future.  A  bride  with  a  handsome  dot 
was  a  necessity ;  and  Rose  was  not  in  love  with 
him,  therefore  no  hearts  would  be  broken. 
Rudolf's  heart  at  present  was  certainly  in 
danger;  but  Ilka  had  seen  it  survive  many 
storms,  and  was  not  afraid. 


A  Passionate  Lover  257 

"And  she? — I  must  guard  her.  She  pities 
him,  and  that  might  deceive  her.  It  must 
not  be.  She  is  to  marry  the  Englishman!" 
And  Ilka  stamped  her  letter  and  ran  down- 
stairs with  it  herself,  so  that  it  might  go  early 
in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

FRAU     WOLFF     SPIES     THROUGH     THE     BUSHES 

A  DUSTY  travelling  carriage  stood  in  the 
courtyard  at  Schloss  Waldhof.  The 
horses  had  been  watered  at  the  wooden  trough 
which  stood  under  the  cherry  tree  by  the  gate- 
way, and  the  driver  was  refreshing  himself 
inside  the  restaurant. 

The  Frau  Baronin  Seybell  and  Vilma  were 
to  be  his  passengers  on  his  return  journey  to 
the  station.  They  were  leaving  Waldhof 
that  afternoon  en  route  for  Vienna.  It  wanted 
still  more  than  an  hour  until  the  time  when 
it  was  necessary  to  start,  but  the  luggage  was 
already  down  and  heaped  in  a  pile  on  the 
doorstep.  Round  it  at  intervals  fluttered 
the  Frau  Baronin  nervously.  She  was  always 
in  a  state  of  nervous  flutter  when  starting  on 
a  journey,  and  on  this  occasion  was  more  so 
than  usual,  because  Vilma  had  given  her  no 
help  at  all  in  the  final  arrangements.  She 

258 


Frau  Wolff  Spies  259 

did  not  know  where  Vilma  was.  Vilma  was 
much  too  modern  and  emancipated  to  allow 
her  mother  to  control  her  movements,  and 
the  Frau  Baronin  did  not  dare  to  make  in- 
quiries. It  would  be  like  her  to  keep  every 
one  anxious  until  the  last  moment,  and  then 
there  would  be  a  rush  and  scramble  to  catch 
the  train. 

Supposing  they  missed  the  train?  The 
Frau  Baronin  shuddered  at  such  an  idea. 
She  was  a  bundle  of  nerves  and  fears.  What 
woman  would  not  be  who  had  a  husband  with 
a  temper  as  finely  set  as  the  hair-spring  of  a 
watch! — and  he  was  waiting  for  her  at  the 
other  end  of  the  journey. 

For  the  third  time  she  made  an  excursion 
out  to  the  gateway  and  looked  up  and  down 
the  road,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  Vilma. 
There  was  no  one  in  sight  at  all,  except  Frau 
Wolff,  who  was  sitting  on  a  seat  a  little  dis- 
tance from  the  front  door,  watching  her 
through  a  pair  of  long-handled  lorgnettes. 
She  sighed.  Of  course  it  still  wanted  an  hour 
to  the  time  of  starting;  she  must  try  to  wait 
patiently. 

Frau  Wolff  was  enjoying  herself.  Watch- 
ing the  Seybells'  departure  was  very  interest- 
ing, and  Waldhof  had  been  particularly  devoid 


26o        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

of  interest  for  the  last  two  days.  Grafin 
Rentier  and  the  English  lady  were  absent, 
and  did  not  return  Until  that  evening.  The 
General  and  his  staff  were  also  absent,  and 
there  had  been  no  dancing  or  lawn  tennis  or 
fetes  in  the  garden.  She  might  have  found 
some  compensation  in  watching  the  young 
Baronin  Seybell  and  the  Englishman,  but  there 
was  nothing  to  watch.  The  romance  she  had 
built  up  concerning  these  two  people  had 
collapsed.  The  Englishman  was  not  in  love 
with  Vilma;  he  was  in  love  with  his  own 
countrywoman.  What  puzzled  her  was,  why 
he  had  not  gone  to  Cortina.  If  the  lady  he 
loved  was  not  at  Waldhof,  why  did  he  seem 
so  content  to  stay  there?  It  was  all  very 
strange. 

For  the  fourth  time  she  saw  the  Frau  Baron- 
in go  out  to  the  gateway  and  look  round  in 
search  of  her  daughter.  What  a  lot  of  boxes 
the  Sey bells  had!  She  wondered  how  much 
had  been  given  to  the  man  who  carried  them 
down.  Such  things  were  very  interesting, 
and  she  often  sat  on  that  particular  seat  to 
watch  arrivals  and  departures. 

Then  she  saw  Mr.  Ridley  emerge  from  the 
door  of  the  Schloss  and  pick  his  way  care- 
fully between  the  piles  of  luggage.  He  held 


Frau  Wolff  Spies  261 

his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  stood  looking  from 
right  to  left  before  descending  the  steps.  He 
saw  Frau  Wolff,  who  nodded  to  him  encour- 
agingly, and,  after  hesitating  for  a  moment, 
he  walked  across  to  where  she  was  sitting 
and  sat  down  beside  her.  It  was  rather  odd, 
but  it  always  happened  that,  if  he  were  in  a 
difficulty  or  perplexity,  fate  threw  him  in  the 
way  of  Frau  Wolff.  An  incongruous  kind  of 
comradeship  had  sprung  up  between  this 
oddly  assorted  couple.  Mr.  Ridley  had  never 
been  abroad  before,  and  national  distinctions 
and  the  conflicting  elements  of  class  prejudice 
meant  nothing  to  him.  He  regarded  her  with 
the  leniency  born  of  gratitude. 

Frau  Wolff  was  flattered  by  Charles's  ap- 
preciation, but  she  was  under  no  delusion  as 
to  wherein  lay  her  attraction  for  him.  Her 
preliminary  remarks  showed  that. 

"Vat  is  ze  matter?"  she  asked.  "I  per- 
ceive zat  ze  face  is  red  and  ze  hairs  of  ze  head 
is  distorbed.  Vat  is  ze  matter?  " 

Charles  knew  that  he  looked  hot  and  fussed. 
It  did  not  make  him  feel  any  cooler  to  be  told 
so. 

"The  customs  of  this  country  are  calcu- 
lated to  disturb  any  one  who  has  a  proper 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,"  he  answered 


262        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

crossly.  "There  is  a  standard  of  propriety 
which  ought  to  be  respected  in  matters  of 
daily  life,  which  I  find  entirely  wanting  here. 
Twice  to-day  I  have  been  made  to  feel  most 
uncomfortable. 

"So— so,"  said  Frau  Wolff.  A  good  deal 
of  what  he  said  was  beyond  her,  but  she 
generally  managed  to  catch  the  drift  of  his 
pedantic  little  grievances.  "Is  it  ze  woman 
of  ze  bass  who  has  made  you  feel  once  more 
so  shockeeng?" 

"No,  it  was  the  laundress.  I  consider  it 
— most  immodest  the  way  she  hangs  the 
clothes  which  she  brings  back  from  the  wash- 
ing on  the  pegs  outside  the  bedroom  doors. 
Presumably  she  has  mistaken  my  number. 
Coming  out  of  my  room  just  now  I  had  to 
push  my  way  through  a  dangling  curtain  of 
garments  which  certainly  did  not  belong  to 
me.  Trashy,  flimsy  things,  trimmed  with — " 
He  coughed  and  passed  his  hand  over  the  top 
of  his  head.  "  No  wonder  my  hair  is  ruffled." 

Frau  Wolff  nodded. 

"But  of  course  she  hangs  ze  cloeses  on  ze 
doors.  You  like  better  if  she  brings  zem  to 
speak  vis  you  in  ze  room?" 

"No,"  snapped  Charles.  "Such  matters 
ought  to  be  arranged  by  the  hotel  officials 


Frau  Wolff  Spies  263 

I  like  to  see  things  and  people  in  their  proper 
places.  It  appears  to  me  that  women  in  this 
country  take  an  unseemly  part  in  work  that 
ought  to  be  done  by  men."  He  put  on  his 
hat,  and  then  took  it  off  again.  "This  after- 
noon the  tailor  sent  his  wife  to  fit  on  my  new 
suit  of  clothes !  His  wife!!"  Charles's  voice 
rose  two  tones  higher.  "The  creature  had 
not  even  the  decency  to  wrap  up  the  things 
in  paper.  I  found  her  walking  up  and  down 
the  corridor  with  the  whole  suit  hanging  over 
her  arm.  Coat  and  waistcoat  and  trousers. 
Trousers!  To  be  fitted  on!  Imagine  such 
a  thing!" 

"Trousers?"  echoed  Frau  Wolff.  "Such 
a  vord  I  do  not  know." 

Her  hand  sought  the  hanging  pocket  which 
she  wore  at  her  waist.  So  much  English  was 
now  talked  in  the  hotel  that -it  was  necessary 
always  to  carry  the  dictionary  about  with 
her.  She  searched  its  pages  rapidly. 

"  Beinkleiderf  "  She  tapped  Charles's  knee 
with  the  handle  of  her  lorgnettes.  "Bein- 
kleider.  But  of  course  I  onderstand." 

"May  I  be  allowed  to  see  the  word  for 
myself?"  asked  Charles.  "I  wish  to  be  able 
to  explain  matters  to  the  tailor,  and  dictionary 
translations  are  often  misleading."  He  took 


264        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

the  book,  and  held  it  up  close  to  his  eyeglasses. 
"Bcinkleider — pantaloons,  inexpressibles,  leg- 
coverings.  Thank  you.  I  think  the  meaning 
is  quite  clear.  I  am  going  to  see  the  tailor 
now." 

"I  komm  vis  you,"  said  Frau  Wolff  with 
decision.  "I  know  zis  man  who  makes  ze 
cloeses.  He  is  stoopid  as  a  sheep.  He  vill 
not  onderstand.  I  speaks  to  him  and  you 
hafs  nodding  to  do.  Ja,  ja.  I  komm  vis 
you." 

Charles  looked  undecided.  He  had  never 
gone  for  a  walk  with  Frau  Wolff  before,  and 
such  familiarity  was  rather  conspicuous.  He 
glanced  at  her  sideways.  She  was  dressed 
for  the  daily  constitutional  she  always  took 
in  the  afternoon.  Her  skirts  were  tucked  up 
with  many  loops  and  buttons,  and  showed  her 
bare,  sandal-bound  feet.  Her  hat  was  a  fluffy 
trifle  of  tulle  and  pink  rosebuds,  grotesquely 
childlike,  and  she  was  struggling  to  squeeze 
her  hands  into  a  pair  of  white  kid  gloves. 

Supposing  he  met  Myles?  Those  dreadful 
sandals !  It  made  him  shiver  to  look  at  them. 

Frau  Wolff  was  conscious  of  the  shiver, 
but  mistook  its  meaning.  She  looked  down. 

"I  do  ze  Kur.  You  sink  my  feets  is  cold? 
Not  at  all.  Vould  you  like  for  to  feel  zems?  " 


Frau  Wolff  Spies  265 

Charles  put  the  breadth  of  the  seat  between 
himself  and  his  companion. 

"Certainly  not,"  he  said  sharply. 

Frau  Wolff  gave  a  fat,  rumbling  laugh. 
She  was  not  in  the  least  offended.  She 
finished  buttoning  her  gloves,  and  then  stood 
up  and  shook  out  her  skirts. 

"We  make  ze  walk.  Komm  wis  me,  I 
know  zis  man,"  and  shooing  Charles  off  the 
bench  with  waves  of  her  parasol,  she  led  the 
way  across  the  courtyard. 

Charles  meekly  put  on  his  hat  and  followed. 
To  his  relief  she  avoided  the  most  public 
pathway,  and  after  leaving  the  Schloss  grounds 
struck  into  a  narrow  road  which  led  past  the 
farm  where  the  Rentiers  had  their  quarters. 
A  small  wood  of  birch  and  pine  bordered  the 
banks  of  the  stream,  and  half  hidden  among 
the  trees  stood  a  scattered  group  of  old  build- 
ings, long  since  disused  and  tumbling  into 
ruins. 

The  path  was  pretty  and  picturesque,  and 
would  have  been  more  so,  Charles  thought, 
if  the  large  figure  in  front  of  him  had  not 
blocked  out  so  much  of  the  view.  There  was 
only  room  to  walk  in  single  file,  and  he  was 
following  his  companion  so  closely  that  when 
she  stopped  suddenly  to  take  breath  before 


266        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

mounting  a  slight  incline  in  the  path  he 
bumped  into  her.  The  shock  jerked  his  eye- 
glasses off  his  nose,  and  the  cord,  catching  on 
a  drooping  branch,  snapped,  and  sent  the 
glasses  flying  into  the  air.  They  quivered  for 
a  second  in  the  sunshine,  and  then  fell,  broken 
into  pieces. 

Frau  Wolff  was  voluble  in  expressions  of 
condolence,  and  still  more  voluble  in  protest 
when  Charles  said  he  must  return  to  the 
Schloss  to  fetch  another  pair.  She  was  pre- 
pared to  be  eyes  and  ears  and  tongue  to  him. 
She  would  pilot  him  through  every  difficulty. 

"You  haf  nodding  to  do  but  vears  ze 
cloeses.  I  talk;  I  talk  all  ze  time,"  she  de- 
clared again  and  again. 

Charles  remained  firm  and  carried  his  point. 
He  must  see  his  clothes  fitted  himself.  If 
Frau  Wolff  would  walk  slowly  on  he  would  go 
back  and  then  follow  and  overtake  her. 

She  shrugged  her  massive  shoulders  and 
pointed  to  a  seat  at  the  top  of  the  little  incline. 
She  would  not  walk  on,  she  would  sit  there 
and  wait  for  him.  She  watched  him  out  of 
sight  and  then  mounted  heavily  the  few  feet 
which  led  to  the  bench.  It  was  a  very  hot 
afternoon,  and  she  was  not  altogether  sorry 
to  rest  for  a  while  in  the  shade.  The  foliage 


Frau  Wolff  Spies  267 

grew  close  all  round,  except  just  in  front, 
where  she  gained  peeps  between  the  branches 
of  the  stream  and  the  old  farm.  She  had 
hardly  seated  herself  when  the  sound  of  voices 
attracted  her  attention,  and  leaning  forward 
she  put  up  her  lorgnettes. 

There,  just  down  below  her,  on  the  stretch 
of  meadow  grass  between  the  stream  and  the 
ruined  farmstead,  were  the  young  Baronin 
Seybell  and  the  Englishman,  and  the  little 
boy  whose  mother  had  gone  to  Cortina  with 
Grafin  Rentier  the  day  before. 

Frau  Wolff  drew  in  a  deep  breath  of  satis- 
faction. With  this  before  her  eyes  she  did 
not  mind  how  long  she  was  kept  waiting. 

The  scene  she  looked  down  upon  was  very 
pretty  and  domestic.  Benjle  was  trying  to 
sail  a  paper  boat  on  a  pool  of  shallow  water, 
which  was  an  overflow  from  the  stream,  and 
Myles  and  Vilma  were  sitting  on  the  fallen 
trunk  of  a  tree  watching  him.  Vilma  was 
talking  and  applauding  the  child's  efforts. 
The  sound  of  voices  reached  Frau  Wolff,  but 
she  could  not  hear  what  was  being  said.  She 
had  barely  grasped  the  outlines  of  the  situa- 
tion when  another  figure  came  into  view.  It 
was  Leopoldina,  evidently  going  to  the  dairy 
to  fetch  the  milk  for  the  child's  supper,  for 


268        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

she  was  carrying  a  jug  in  her  hand.  There 
was  some  talk  between  her  and  the  English- 
man, and  then  she  curtsied  and  went  on  her 
way. 

She  had  not  been  gone  more  than  two  or 
three  minutes  when  a  new  source  of  interest 
appeared.  Frau  Wolff  grasped  the  handle 
of  her  lorgnettes  tighter  and  stretched  her 
neck  to  the  utmost. 

It  was  one  of  the  hotel  servants  with  what 
she  was  quite  sure  was  a  telegram  for  the 
Englishman;  she  could  see  the  flimsy  scrap 
of  paper  fluttering  between  his  fingers  when 
he  spread  it  open.  He  stood  reading  it  with 
his  head  down,  and  then  took  a  step  or  two 
in  the  direction  which  Leopoldina  had  taken 
and  called  out  something,  but  there  was  no 
answer.  Leopoldina  had  disappeared  amongst 
the  trees. 

Vilma  rose  from  her  seat,  and  Frau  Wolff 
guessed  what  was  being  discussed,  for  Vilma 
pointed  to  the  little  boy  and  then  walked 
across  to  the  pool  where  he  was  playing  and 
took  his  hand.  The  next  thing  Frau  Wolff 
saw  was  the  Englishman  going  very  quickly 
back  in  the  direction  of  the  Schloss  and  the 
servant  who  had  brought  the  telegram  fol- 
lowing behind. 


Frau  Wolff  Spies  269 

Vilma  held  a  red  parasol  over  her  head, 
which  made  a  bright  spot  of  colour  against 
the  green  bank  beyond.  When  Myles  was 
out  of  sight  she  put  it  down,  and  with  the 
handle  hooked  Benjie's  paper  boat  out  of  the 
pool  and  threw  it  into  the  stream.  The  water 
was  low,  but  the  current  caught  it  and  it 
danced  and  bobbed  over  the  stones  as  it  was 
carried  downwards.  The  child  was  delighted. 
Vilma  still  held  his  hand  and  he  dragged  her 
along  with  him  until  they  reached  a  bend  in 
the  stream  where  it  swept  round  at  the  back 
of  the  old  farmstead. 

"  Ach!"  exclaimed  Frau  Wolff,  regaining 
her  balance  with  an  effort.  She  had  nearly 
tumbled  off  the  bench  trying  to  follow  the 
movements  of  the  two  figures,  and  they  had 
suddenly  disappeared.  She  heard  the  child's 
ringing  laugh  for  a  few  seconds  longer,  and 
then  followed  complete  silence. 

She  dropped  her  lorgnettes  and  looked  at 
her  watch.  It  was  getting  very  near  the  time 
for  the  young  Baronin  to  start  on  her  journey. 
Frau  Wolff  knew  exactly  how  long  it  would 
take  for  a  carriage  and  pair  with  passengers 
and  luggage  to  drive  from  Waldhof  to  the 
station. 

A  few  minutes  passed  and  Vilma  reappeared, 


270        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

but  she  was  alone,  and  she  walked  leisurely 
across  the  grass  almost  in  a  direct  line  towards 
the  place  where  Frau  Wolff  was  sitting.  As 
she  drew  nearer  she  smiled  and  waved  her 
red  parasol.  Not  at  the  watcher  hidden  be- 
hind the  screen  of  trees,  but  at  Mr.  Egerton, 
who  was  coming  to  meet  her  from  the  opposite 
direction. 

Frau  Wolff  drew  back  cautiously.  They 
were  now  almost  exactly  under  the  spot  where 
she  sat.  She  could  hear  them  speaking. 
Vilma's  was  a  peculiarly  high-pitched  voice; 
every  word  rose  distinct  and  clear. 

"It  is  all  right.  The  nurse  came  back 
and  took  him  away." 

"The  Englishman's  reply  was  less  audible. 
He  was  evidently  questioning,  and  Vilma 
answered  him  again  with  easy  assurance. 

"But  I  tell  you  it  is  quite  all  right.  You 
would  not  meet  them  for  they  went  back  by 
another  road." 

Her  voice  trailed  off,  fainter  as  the  distance 
lengthened,  and  Frau  Wolff  heard  only  the 
murmur  of  a  deeper  tone  answer  her.  She 
rose  and  parted  the  branches  in  front. 

The  young  Baronin  and  the  Englishman 
were  walking  away  in  the  direction  of  the 
Schloss,  Vilma  swinging  her  parasol  carelessly 


Frau  Wolff  Spies  '271 

from  side  to  side.  She  was  in  no  hurry,  al- 
though it  was  so  near  the  time  of  her  departure. 

Frau  Wolff  returned  to  the  seat  and  sat 
down  again.  Her  busy  brain  was  full  of  a 
new  subject  of  speculation.  She  was  not 
thinking  of  Vilma;  she  was  thinking  of  how 
Leopoldina  had  managed  to  return  from  the 
dairy  and  take  the  little  boy  away  without 
having  been  seen  to  cross  the  meadow  below. 
She  thought  she  knew  all  the  paths  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Schloss,  but  evidently 
she  was  mistaken.  Some  day  she  would  go 
and  investigate  the  place  for  her  own  satis- 
faction. 

She  was  deep  in  thought  when  Charles  re- 
appeared. He  was  very  hot  and  apologetic. 
He  had  not  expected  to  find  her  still  waiting 
for  him,  but  Frau  Wolff  made  no  comment 
on  his  length  of  absence.  The  time  had  not 
seemed  long  to  her.  She  had  been  pleasantly 
occupied,  but  she  did  not  tell  him  in  what 
way.  She  was  still  puzzling  over  that  little 
mystery  of  how  Leopoldina  had  got  back 
from  the  dairy  without  having  been  seen  to 
cross  the  meadow. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
VILMA'S  REVENGE  BEGINS  TO  WORK 

CRAU  WOLFF  had  seen  a  good  deal,  but 
she  did  not  see  Mr.  Egerton  leave  Schloss 
Waldhof  a  little  later  in  the  company  of  Frau 
Baronin  Seybell  and  Vilma. 

It  had  all  come  about  quite  simply.  Myles's 
telegram  was  an  important  one.  As  he  walked 
back  with  Vilma  to  the  Schloss  he  mentioned 
that  he  was  going  down  to  the  office  to  send  the 
answer  to  it  himself,  and  she  had  offered  him 
a  seat  in  their  carriage.  They  passed  the 
telegraph  office  and  it  would  save  time  and  a 
hot,  dusty  walk. 

The  Frau  Baronin  had  seconded  the  invi- 
tation, and  now,  as  she  watched  him  sitting 
opposite  to  her  in  the  carriage,  she  thought, 
with  a  sigh,  if  only  Providence  would  arrange 
for  this  Englishman  to  marry  Vilma,  what  a 
merciful  thing  it  would  be.  She  had  an  in- 
stinctive trust  in  quiet  men ;  they  were  stronger 

272 


Vilma's  Revenge  Begins  to  Work    273 

than  the  ones  who  blustered  and  swore.  Yes ! 
If  he  would  only  marry  Vilma  and  take  her 
away  to  the  respectability  of  his  own  country. 
She  did  not  know  much  about  England, §  but 
she  was  assured  of  its  respectability.  Vilma 
would  be  kept  out  of  mischief  there. 

Myles  would  have  been  very  much  sur- 
prised if  he  had  known  what  thoughts  were 
passing  through  the  mind  of  the  little  woman 
whose  faded  eyes  looked  at  him  pathetically 
from  under  the  brim  of  her  black  mushroom 
hat.  He  saw  the  pathos  and  was  sorry.  The 
old  Baron  was  a  brute,  he  remembered,  and 
bullied  his  wife  abominably.  A  feeling  of 
compunction  smote  him.  He  had  not  paid 
as  much  attention  to  the  Seybells  as  he  ought 
to  have  done  since  he  had  renewed  his  ac- 
quaintance with  them  at  Waldhof,  and  now 
they  were  going  away,  and  he  would  not  have 
another  chance  of  making  up  for  his  want 
of  sociability.  Vilma  had  annoyed  him  the 
night  he  had  overheard  her  discussing  Rudolf 
on  the  terrace,  and  he  had  kept  out  of  her  way 
since.  She  had  made  him  feel  very  uncom- 
fortable that  afternoon  by  finding  him  out  to 
say  good-bye.  He  would  not  have  accepted 
the  offer  of  a  seat  in  the  carriage  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  Frau  Baronin.  Something  in 

18 


274        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

the  appeal  of  those  faded  eyes  had  touched 
him  and  prompted  him  to  accept  it. 

He  leaned  forward  on  the  narrow  seat  and 
exerted  himself  to  be  agreeable. 

He  succeeded  almost  too  well,  and  the  Frau 
Baronin's  hopes  soared  still  higher.  There 
were  almost  tears  in  her  eyes  when  she  gave 
him  her  hand  at  parting,  and  timidly  invited 
him  to  come  and  visit  them  the  following 
winter  in  Vienna. 

Vilma  did  not  say  much.  It  occurred  to 
Myles  that  the  smile  which  curled  the  corners 
of  her  red  lips  as  she  bent  over  the  door  of 
the  carriage  was  a  little  malicious.  She  said 
good-bye,  and  then  added,  laughing: 

1 '  I  wish  you  '  good  luck. '  That  is  an  English 
expression  which  we  also  have." 

Standing  in  the  roadway,  he  watched  the 
carriage  disappear  out  of  sight  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

She  had  wished  him  "good  luck."  It  was 
odd  that  she  should  have  used  that  expres- 
sion; its  significance  went  deeper  than  she 
knew.  A  face — not  Vilma's — came  up  before 
him.  It  had  never  been  far  away ;  it  haunted 
him  waking  and  sleeping.  How  would  she 
greet  him?  he  wondered  for  the  hundredth 
time.  How  soon  would  he  know  what  his 
answer  was  to  be? 


Vilma's  Revenge  Begins  to  Work    275 

"I  wish  you  'good  luck. ' ' 

The  words  rang  in  his  ears  as  he  turned  into 
the  telegraph  office,  but  he  had  forgotten  all 
about  Vilma. 

It  did  not  take  him  long  to  transact  his 
business,  for  he  rarely  found  difficulty  in 
dealing  with  foreign  officials.  As  he  was 
leaving  the  place  he  asked  which  was  the 
quickest  way  back  to  Waldhof  ?  The  man  in 
charge,  who  had  been  impressed  by  the 
stranger's  command  of  his  own  language,  came 
to  the  door  to  explain  where  he  would  strike 
the  path  which  led  up  to  the  Schloss  through 
the  woods.  He  assured  him  that  he  himself 
could  do  the  distance  in  half  an  hour.  Myles 
looked  at  the  man's  short  legs  and  his  own 
long  ones  and  knocked  ten  minutes  off  the 
time.  He  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  back,  because 
he  was  not  altogether  satisfied  with  himself 
for  having  left  Benjie  to  be  handed  over  to 
Leopoldina  without  explaining  why  he  had 
been  called  away. 

"The  little  chap  will  think  I  've  forgotten 
my  promise,"  he  told  himself  remorsefully. 
Benjie  had  extorted  from  him  a  promise  that 
about  the  time  his  mother  was  expected  to 
return  he  would  take  him  a  little  bit  down 
the  road  on  the  way  to  the  station  to  meet  her. 


276        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

The  childish  request  had  been  eagerly 
pleaded,  and  Myles  had  been  humbly  grateful 
for  it.  It  was  absurd,  but  he  was  as  nervous 
as  a  girl  about  meeting  Rose.  He  had  thought 
of  every  conceivable  way  as  to  how  and 
where  and  when  he  would  see  her  again  for 
the  first  time,  and  he  laughed  a  little  grimly 
to  himself  as  he  covered  the  ground  with  long, 
swinging  strides.  Love  was  making  a  fool  of 
him.  He  had  always  prided  himself  on  his 
self-reliance,  and  it  was  to  the  hand  of  a  little 
child  that  he  was  trusting  for  help. 

The  beauty  of  the  woodland  path  was  lost 
on  him;  he  kept  looking  straight  ahead  to 
where  he  would  catch  the  first  glimpse  of 
Schloss  Waldhof  through  the  trees.  It  still 
wanted  a  little  while  to  the  time  when  the 
travellers  were  due,  but  the  child  was  so  ex- 
citable he  would  be  waiting  in  a  fever  of 
impatience. 

When  he  came  out  from  the  cover  of  the 
woods,  the  first  thing  he  saw  was  Leopoldina 
standing  by  the  gateway  of  the  Schloss.  She 
was  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  and  her 
attitude  was  watchful  and  expectant.  She 
was  alone,  a  fact  which  struck  him  at  once 
as  curious.  As  soon  as  she  saw  him  she  came 
running  down  the  slope  and  panted  out 


Vilma's  Revenge  Begins  to  Work    277 

breathlessly  the  question:  "Where  was  the 
Kindchen?" 

Myles  stopped  short  and  stared  at  her. 

"The  child?  He  had  been  given  back 
into  her  charge.  What  did  she  mean?" 

A  torrent  of  questions  and  protestations 
answered  him.  Myles  had  grown  accustomed 
to  the  girl's  patois,  and  he  understood  her 
better  than  he  had  done  on  the  occasion  of 
the  night  of  the  storm.  Was  she  lying?  he 
wondered.  Had  Benjie  been  up  to  one  of 
his  favourite  tricks  of  running  away  and  was 
she  trying  to  excuse  herself  for  not  having 
kept  better  watch  over  him? 

He  spoke  to  her  sternly  in  German. 

"Tell  me  the  truth.  When  you  came 
back  from  the  dairy,  you  found  the  child 
playing  with  his  boat,  as  you  had  left  him. 
What  happened  after  that?  How  did  you 
manage  to  lose  him?" 

Leopoldina  wrung  her  hands  despairingly. 

When  she  returned  from  the  dairy — and 
she  had  not  stayed  long,  not  one  moment 
too  long — the  Kindchen  and  the  Baronin  and 
the  Herr  Englishman,  all  had  disappeared. 
She  had  searched  everywhere.  At  the  Schloss 
she  had  been  told  that  the  Herr  Englishman 
had  driven  away  in  the  carriage  with  the 


278        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Frau  Baronin  Seybell  and  the  young  Baronin. 
One  of  the  servants  had  seen  him  go;  it  was 
Marie.  The  carriage  had  been  waiting  for 
some  time  with  all  the  luggage  ready,  and  it 
had  departed  hurriedly  at  the  last.  Perhaps 
the  Kindchen  had  gone  with  them,  perhaps 
not.  Marie  could  not  remember  having  seen 
him,  but  then  he  was  so  small.  He  might 
have  jumped  into  the  carriage  and  been 
hidden  by  the  hood  which  had  been  put  up 
to  keep  off  the  dust. 

Leopoldina  called  upon  all  the  saints  in 
the  calendar  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of 
what  she  was  saying.  With  tears  she  im- 
plored Myles  to  tell  her  what  he  had  done 
with  the  child.  She  had  been  watching  and 
waiting  for  him;  her  mistress  might  return  at 
any  moment.  What  was  she  to  do? 

The  girl  did  not  look  as  if  she  were  telling 
lies,  and  yet — Vilma's  assurance  when  she 
had  told  him  it  was  all  right,  quite  all  right. 
He  did  not  attempt  to  give  Leopoldina  an 
explanation;  he  could  not.  A  hideous  fear 
of  he  knew  not  what  gripped  hold  of  him. 
"Come!"  he  said  sharply,  and  started  off  to 
run,  with  Leopoldina  following  close  behind. 

Skirting  the  garden  wall  of  the  Schloss  he 
made  direct  for  the  spot  where  he  had  last 


Vilma's  Revenge  Begins  to  Work    279 

seen  Benjie  and  Vilma  together.  It  took 
only  a  few  minutes  to  reach  it.  The  sun  had 
dipped  behind  the  hill  and  the  place  looked 
gloomy  and  deserted;  the  pool  where  the 
child  had  sailed  his  boat  lay  like  a  dark  blot 
in  the  shadow;  no  white  speck  marked  its 
surface. 

He  had  taken  the  boat  with  him,  thought 
Myles,  as  he  ran  on  towards  the  banks  of 
the  stream.  It  might  be  some  clue. 

The  water  was  low.  It  had  fallen  as 
rapidly  after  the  storm  as  it  had  risen,  and 
rippled  smoothly  over  its  shallow  bed  of  sand 
and  gravel.  He  followed  its  course  round 
the  bend  behind  the  ruined  farmstead;  a 
rotting  beam  had  fallen  from  one  of  the  out- 
houses into  the  water,  and  flattened  against 
it  was  a  piece  of  sodden  white  paper. 

He  did  not  require  to  examine  it;  he  knew 
what  it  was.  Leopoldina,  who  was  watching 
his  every  movement,  uttered  a  frightened 
exclamation. 

"No,"  he  said  shortly,  glancing  up  and 
down  the  stream.  There  was  n't  a  pool  deep 
enough  to  drown  a  kitten. 

He  turned  back  towards  the  ruins,  and 
although  Leopoldina  declared  she  had  already 
been  through  them  all  before,  he  commenced 


28o        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

a  systematic  search  of  every  hole  and  corner, 
making  her  begin  at  one  point  while  he  started 
from  another.  His  heart  misgave  him  as  he 
groped  his  way  in  the  semi-twilight;  no  child 
would  ever  hide  for  the  best  part  of  an  hour 
in  such  an  eerie,  deserted  place.  Most  of 
the  sheds  were  roofless,  only  the  cow-house, 
which  after  the  Tyrolean  custom  burrowed 
down  dark  and  cavernous  below  the  level 
of  the  ground,  remained  intact.  The  door 
had  fallen  inwards,  and  the  entrance  stood 
wide  open.  From  an  iron  grating  a  feeble 
gleam  of  light  showed  that  the  place  was 
divided  into  two  parts,  and  that  the  inner 
part  was  shut  off  by  a  rough  wooden  partition. 

As  he  grew  accustomed  to  the  gloom  he 
could  distinguish  objects  looming  out  of  the 
shadows,  and  on  the  earthen  floor  he  saw 
marks  among  the  litter  of  leaves  and  dried 
fern  which  showed  that  the  ground  had  been 
recently  disturbed.  Something  bright  caught 
his  eye.  He  stooped  down  and  picked  up  a 
small  object  which  sparkled  in  his  hand  as  he 
turned  it  over. 

It  was  a  little  heart-shaped  trinket.  It 
was  quite  familiar  to  him,  for  he  had  noticed 
it  often  hanging  from  a  bangle  on  Vilma 
Sey bell's  wrist.  He  was  on  the  brink  of  dis- 


Vilma's  Revenge  Begins  to  Work     281 

covery.  From  under  the  inner  door  some- 
thing white  protruded.  Even  in  the  dim  light 
it  was  recognisable:  the  crushed  brim  of  a 
child's  hat. 

He  raised  the  door  and  pressed  it  inwards. 
His  foot  touched  something  soft,  and  he  felt 
the  cold  sweat  break  out  on  his  forehead,  and 
that  hideous  fear  took  tangible  form.  It  lay 
there — a  little  white  heap.  Horribly  still; 
horribly  limp!  He  knelt  down,  and  gathering 
it  into  his  arms  stumbled  out  into  the  daylight. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE    SCAPEGOAT    FOR  A  WOMAN'S  TREACHERY 

TT  was  good  to  be  back  at  the  old  Schloss 
*  again.  It  felt  like  home,  thought  Rose,  as 
she  ran  lightly  up  the  old  stone  staircase. 

Conscience  smote  her  just  a  little ;  she  ought 
not  to  be  so  light  of  foot  and  so  light  of  heart. 
Rudolf  and  his  impassioned  declaration  and 
his  love  and  despair  ought  still  to  be  fresh  in 
her  memory;  but  it  seemed  as  though  yester- 
day had  suddenly  sunk  far  into  the  back- 
ground. Her  horizon  had  narrowed  down  to 
one  point.  The  present  was  real  and  vital 
and  immediate. 

The  Schloss  felt  very  quiet  and  hot  and 
airless.  She  wondered  why  Benjie  had  not 
rushed  out  from  some  hiding-place  to  surprise 
her.  She  was  later  than  she  expected.  Per- 
haps Leopoldina  had  concluded  that  she  was 
not  coming  back  by  the  train  she  had  intended 
and  taken  him  off  to  bed;  but  he  certainly 

would  not  be  asleep.     She  walked  softly,  and 

282 


Scapegoat  for  a  Woman's  Treachery    283 

opened  the  door  of  the  nursery  very  gently. 
The  room  was  empty  and  it  looked  painfully 
bare  and  tidy.  No  little  garments  scattered 
about,  no  splashings  of  bath  water  on  the 
wooden  boards,  and  the  coverlet  of  the  bed 
in  the  corner  had  not  been  turned  down  for 
the  night. 

The  atmosphere  was  like  an  oven.  She 
threw  open  the  Venetian  shutters,  and  went 
out  on  to  the  balcony.  There  was  no  one  to 
be  seen  in  the  garden  below,  for  it  was  the 
supper  hour,  but  that  did  not  account  for 
Leopoldina's  absence;  Benjie  always  had  his 
bread  and  milk  in  the  nursery. 

She  stood  by  the  balustrade  and  drummed 
her  fingers  impatiently  on  the  wooden  rail, 
uncertain  whether  to  go  down-stairs  again  or 
not.  The  door  from  the  balcony  into  the 
corridor  was  a  little  ajar,  and  her  ears  were 
on  the  alert  to  catch  every  sound.  Some  one 
was  coming  up  the  stairs,  and  it  was  not 
Leopoldina.  It  was  a  man's  footstep,  and 
the  colour  flushed  up  into  her  cheeks.  She 
moved  nearer  to  the  door,  and  stood  behind 
it,  listening.  She  thought  she  knew  what  had 
happened.  Myles  had  kept  his  promise. 
He  had  taken  Benjie  out  with  him  and  was 
bringing  him  back. 


284        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

The  steps  drew  nearer.  She  had  no  doubts 
now  as  to  who  it  was,  only  the  silence  puzzled 
her.  There  was  no  sound  of  childish  chatter, 
and  no  scamper  of  little  feet.  She  opened 
the  door  wide.  Yes,  it  was  Myles  corning 
towards  her,  and  he  was  carrying  Benjie  in 
his  arms. 

There  was  nothing  unnatural  in  the  child's 
appearance;  he  looked  as  though  he  were 
asleep,  his  head  pillowed  in  the  hollow  of  the 
arm  which  held  him.  But  it  was  the  expres- 
sion in  Myles's  eyes  which  struck  fear  to  her 
heart. 

She  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment. 

' '  What  is  the  matter?  What  have  you  done 
to  him?"  She  held  out  her  arms.  "Give 
him  to  me." 

He  walked  on  into  the  nursery,  and  laid 
his  burden  gently  down  on  the  bed.  Then 
he  drew  himself  up,  and  said  in  a  dull,  me- 
chanical voice,  as  though  he  had  rehearsed 
the  words  beforehand: 

11  It  is  a  faint.     He  got  a  fright." 

There  was  the  sound  of  hurrying  foot- 
steps; it  was  Leopoldina  running  along  the 
corridor. 

"Don't  blame  the  girl,"  he  said  quickly. 
"It  was  my  fault — I  lost  him." 


Scapegoat  for  a  Woman's  Treachery  285 

For  a  moment  Rose  stared  at  him  with 
dazed  eyes. 

"Lost  him?" 

Leopoldina  burst  into  the  room. 

"  It  was  my  fault,"  repeated  Myles.  "Don't 
blame  her." 

Her  glance  swept  him  from  head  to  foot. 
Then  without  a  word  she  turned  and  bent 
over  the  bed. 

Myles  took  a  step  forward. 

"  How  can  I  help?  Tell  me  what  I  can  do," 
he  asked. 

She  did  not  answer;  she  was  kneeling  by 
the  bedside,  quickly  unfastening  the  child's 
clothes,  feeling  his  heart,  passing  her  hands 
over  each  limb.  To  Leopoldina,  who  stood  by 
shaking  with  fright  and  excitement,  she  issued 
sharp,  curt  orders,  checking  with  a  peremp- 
tory gesture  all  attempts  of  explanation. 

Cold  water!  Brandy!  The  smelling  salts 
from  her  room!  The  doors  and  windows 
opened  wider;  every  thought  and  sense  was 
concentrated  on  one  object.  She  did  not 
look  round  to  see  who  obeyed  her.  She  did 
not  know  who  it  was  who  fetched  the  brandy 
or  who  took  the  spoon  from  Leopoldina's 
trembling  fingers  and  measured  the  drops 
into  it. 


286         With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Myles  saw  the  first  quiver  of  the  closed 
eyelids  as  soon  as  she  did;  saw  the  tightly- 
shut  mouth  relax,  and  a  gasping  sob  shake 
the  little  body  convulsively.  He  saw  her 
draw  the  child  into  her  arms,  cradling  the 
curly  head  against  her  bosom  as  she  mur- 
mured tender,  caressing  words  and  smiled 
down  into  the  widely  opened  eyes,  which 
stared  up  at  her  with  a  lurking  terror  in  their 
blue  depths. 

It  was  time  for  him  to  go.  There  was 
nothing  more  he  could  do,  and  she  would 
hate  the  sight  of  him  when  she  came  back 
to  a  knowledge  of  her  surroundings. 

He  left  the  room  noiselessly  and  went 
down-stairs  and  out  into  the  garden.  He 
knew  to  which  side  her  windows  looked,  and 
he  made  his  way  to  the  terrace  below  them. 
Pitiful  sounds  reached  him  from  the  room 
above.  A  little  child's  voice,  now  raised  in 
shrill  tones  of  fear,  now  dying  away  again 
into  a  sobbing  wail;  and  ever  answering, 
soothing,  caressing,  the  soft  murmur  of  an- 
other voice. 

He  could  not  bear  it.  He  walked  to  the 
end  of  the  terrace  and  stood  there,  his  face 
upturned  to  the  fading  light,  and  a  fury  of 
anger  raging  within  him. 


Scapegoat  for  a  Woman's  Treachery  287 

Vilma's  parting  words  rang  in  his  ears. 

"The  damned  devilishness  of  the  woman!" 
he  muttered  fiercely  through  his  teeth. 

She  had  done  this  thing.  Deliberately. 
Tricked  him  into  this  trap  where  he  was 
bound  hand  and  foot.  To  clear  himself  he 
could  never  accuse  Vilma  of  this  horrible 
piece  of  cold-blooded  cruelty;  he  knew  that 
he  would  have  to  take  on  himself  the  con- 
sequences of  her  deed. 

Why  had  she  done  it? 

Her  face,  staring  at  him  from  the  dark  arch- 
way outside  the  chapel  door  suddenly  flashed 
up  before  him.  A  dull  red  rose  to  his  brow 
when  he  asked  himself  again  why  she  had 
done  this  thing. 

He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out 
the  little  trinket  he  had  found  lying  on  the 
floor  of  the  cow-shed.  A  fragment  of  gold 
chain  hung  from  it,  and  the  last  link  was 
strained  open  where  it  had  been  wrenched 
from  the  bangle  on  Vilma's  wrist.  There  had 
been  a  struggle,  and  the  child  had  clung  to 
her.  She  had  torn  herself  free  and  shut  him 
in  behind  that  heavy  door.  He  put  the  thing 
back  out  of  sight:  it  sickened  him.  How 
long  had  the  poor  little  tortured  brain  strug- 
gled with  the  terrors  of  darkness  before  un- 


288        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

consciousnc^  - verpowered  it?  He  wondered 
what  effect  a  shock  like  that  might  have  on 
an  excitable  child. 

He  went  back  to  the  window  and  looked 
up.  A  light  had  been  lit  and  the  child  was 
quiet  for  the  moment,  but  he  heard  the  hushed 
sound  of  voices.  One  of  them  was  Grafin 
Rentier's,  and  he  recognised  the  other  as 
Leopoldina's. 

It  would  all  come  out  now.  Everything 
was  against  him.  Leopoldina  had  not  been 
with  him  when  he  found  Benjie;  she  could 
in  no  way  connect  Vilma  Seybell  with  the 
child's  disappearance. 

He  stood  listening.  In  that  room  above, 
the  woman  he  loved  was  being  told  the  story 
of  how  he  had  kept  his  trust  to  her.  She 
had  trusted  him.  She  would  not  have  gone 
to  Cortina  if  she  had  not  trusted  him;  and 
she  had  trusted  him  for  this !  He  groaned  in 
spirit.  The  ghastly  mockery  of  it  all!  As 
he  listened,  he  felt  like  a  man  being  put  in  his 
coffin  alive,  and  not  able  to  move  a  finger  to 
prevent  the  lid  from  being  screwed  down. 

He  began  to  walk  up  and  down  again, 
pausing  every  time  he  passed  beneath  the 
lighted  window,  until  darkness  fell  and  the 
stars  came  out.  The  garden  was  very  quiet; 


Scapegoat  for  a  Woman's  Treachery  289 

a  hot,  sultry  gloom  hung  over  the  old  Schloss. 
When  he  came  to  the  end  of  one  of  his  meas- 
ured beats  and  saw  a  white  figure  cross  the 
pathway  in  front  of  him  he  was  about  to 
wheel  round  to  avoid  it  when  he  recognised 
Grafin  Rentier.  He  wavered  for  a  moment, 
and  then  followed,  overtaking  her  as  she 
came  into  the  circle  of  light  shining  from  the 
windows  of  the  Lese  Saal. 

"Achf  but  it  is — it  is  Herr  Egerton!"  ex- 
claimed Ilka.  "You  jump  so  quick  out  of 
the  darkness — you  frightened  me." 

"I  'm  sorry,"  he  said,  and  then  stood  look- 
ing at  her,  a  world  of  question,  entreaty, 
almost  fear  in  his  eyes. 

Ilka  returned  the  look,  but  her  glance  was 
alert,  keen,  and  penetrating.  He  felt  that  she 
was  reading  him  like  a  book,  and  that  she 
guessed  the  secret  of  his  love. 

He  did  not  resent  the  scrutiny  of  those 
bright  eyes.  Something  told  him  that  she 
was  his  friend.  He  knew  it,  and  felt  it 
instinctively.  The  paralysing  sensation  of 
helplessness  slipped  from  him ;  he  was  himself 
again,  ready  to  face  whatever  lay  before  him. 
"What  am  I  to  do?  "  he  said  simply. 

She  motioned  him  to  follow  her  out  of  ear- 
shot of  the  window. 
19 


290        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"I  would  speak  with  you,  because  there 
are  some  things  I  do  not  understand."  She 
tapped  her  head  significantly.  "He  did  not 
fall  over  a  precipice?" 

"No." 

"There  has  not  been  a  blow  here? "  Again 
she  touched  her  head. 

"I  don't  think  so.  I  examined  him  care- 
fully. It — seemed  to  be  a  faint  from — from 
fright." 

"Ah,  so,  that  is  possible.  The  girl,  his 
nurse,  tells  me  she  leave  the  little  one  with 
you,  and  he  lose  himself  and  you  find  him. 
It  is  a  strange  story  which  she  tells.  Is  it 
true?" 

"What  else  did  she  tell  you?" 

In  a  few  quick  sentences  Ilka  gave  him 
Leopoldina's  version  of  what  had  happened. 
It  was  all  quite  correct,  but  there  was  no 
mention  of  Vilma.  Leopoldina  had  not  con- 
nected the  young  Baronin  with  the  child's 
disappearance. 

Myles  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  relief 
mixed  with  bitterness.  There  would  be  no 
complications  to  explain. 

"What  she  says  is  quite  true;  she  is  not  to 
blame.  I  told  Mrs.  Trevor  so.  It  happened 
through  my — carelessness . ' ' 


Scapegoat  for  a  Woman's  Treachery  291 

Ilka  glanced  at  him  quickly  and  then  looked 
down  and  tapped  the  ground  with  her  foot. 
Her  brows  were  drawn  together;  her  pretty 
mouth  pursed  tightly.  She  shot  another  look 
up  at  him  from  under  her  lashes.  There 
was  in  it  an  immense  depth  of  compre- 
hension. 

"There  is  a  mystery.  Oh  yes,  but  of  course 
I  understand.  Your  mouth  is  shut — locked 
tight.  You  allow  Frau  Trevor  to  think  that 
you  are  a  monster  of  cruelty,  and  you  do  this 
for  the  sake  of — a  point  of  honour."  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  "But  you  do  not 
deceive  me.  Oh  no,  not  at  all!" 

He  looked  away  from  her. 

"Don't  bother  about  me.  Other  things 
matter  more."  His  eyes  came  back  to  her 
face.  "Tell  me  how  to  help.  I  'm  outside, 
you  see,  and  it 's  rather  awful.  You  Ve  been 
with  Mrs.  Trevor.  What  do  you  think? 
Is  the  child  really,  ill?  Is  she  frightened 
about  him?  Would  she  like  a  doctor?  Is 
there  anything  wanted?  Give  me  something 
to  do."  ' 

Ilka's  heart  softened  to  him.  He  pleaded 
very  humbly,  and  her  quick  wits  told  her 
that  she  would  not  surprise  him  into  admit- 
ting anything  that  he  did  not  wish  to  admit. 


292        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

It  was  the  Englishman's  intention  to  keep  his 
own  counsel. 

"The  little  one  is  in  much  fever.  He  is 
burning,  and  he  will  never  sleep  in  such  a 
state.  He  only  becomes  stupid,  and  then 
cries  with  some  great  fear,  and  then  again 
becomes  stupid.  I  have  but  this  moment 
returned  from  speaking  with  the  proprietor 
of  the  hotel  to  ask  him  if  a  messenger  can  be 
sent  to  the  town  to  procure  something  from 
the  Apotheke.  He  makes  difficulties,  for, 
of  course,  a  special  messenger  is  great  expense. 
The  little  one  is  in  such  fever  that  he  cannot 
sleep,  and  we  have  nothing  to  make  him  sleep ; 
and  that  room  where  he  lies!  Mein  Gottl 
it  is  like  the  Inferno!  He  cannot  breathe! 
He  will  die  in  such  heat ! " 

"Can't  he  be  moved  into  a  cooler  room?" 
said  Myles. 

Ilka  threw  out  her  hands. 

"  When  one  is  not  rich,  one  cannot  command 
the  best  rooms." 

Myles  had  taken  a  note-book  from  his 
pocket  while  she  was  speaking.  He  tore 
out  a  leaf  and  gave  it  to  her,  with  a  pencil. 

"Write  down  what  you  want,"  he  said, 
"and  I  will  see  that  the  things  are  sent 
for." 


Scapegoat  for  a  Woman's  Treachery  293 

Ilka  balanced  the  pencil  between  her  fingers ; 
she  was  a  very  practical  person. 

' '  The  proprietor  ?  He  may  give  Frau  Trevor 
much  expense." 

"Frau  Trevor  is  not  to  know  anything 
about  it." 

Myles  looked  straight  into  Ilka's  eyes  and 
his  own  expressed  a  good  deal. 

"You  will  be  my  friend,  won't  you?  You 
must  know  how  I  feel.  I  can't  help  her  by 
myself,  she  would  not  let  me,  but  I  can 
through  you.  If  she  asks  any  questions,  you 
can — well,  you  can  make  it  seem  all  right, 
can't  you — without  bringing  me  in?" 

Ilka's  eyes  sparkled. 

"We  conspire  together?  A  little  intrigue? 
I  understand,"  and  she  began  to  scribble 
hastily  on  the  page  of  the  note-book. 

"About  the  rooms,"  continued  Myles. 
"There  are  some  big  airy  ones  empty  down- 
stairs that  open  on  to  the  verandah." 

"My  friend,"  said  Ilka,  looking  up,  "you 
are  not  modest.  These  rooms  are  the  best 
in  the  hotel.  They  are  let  en  suite,  and  I 
believe  are  reserved  for  some  distinguished 
personage.  The  proprietor  will  assuredly  say 
no!" 

"He  has  his  price,  I  suppose?" 


294        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"All  such  people  have.  But  it  will  be 
colossal!" 

"I  think  he  will  see  the  necessity  of  giving 
us  the  rooms,"  answered  Myles,  quietly. 
"And  that  list?  You  Ve  finished  it.  If  you 
give  it  me  I  will  arrange  for  the  things  you 
want  to  be  sent  for." 

Ilka  folded  the  paper  into  a  narrow  slip. 

"You  know  how  to  be  a  good  friend,"  she 
said,  as  she  gave  it  to  him.  "But — you  do 
not  tell  much.  I  believe  you  have  been  walk- 
ing up  and  down  in  the  dark  all  alone  and 
calling  yourself  damn,  damn,  damn,  a  great 
many  times.  Is  not  that  so?" 

"Something  like  it." 

"It  has  doubtless  refreshed  you  to  say  such 
words.  Do  you  know,"  she  added,  patting 
the  bosom  of  her  dress,  "that  a  little  voice 
here  tells  me  that  you  are  to  be  trusted? 
There  is  a  mystery.  You  do  not  deceive  me 
—oh  no,  not  at  all !  But  I  know  that  you  are 
to  be  trusted  altogether." 

Myles  was  not  a  demonstrative  man.  He 
only  took  her  hand  and  wrung  it  hard. 

"Thank  you,  "he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

FRAU  WOLFF  OPENS  RUDOLF'S  EYES 

CRAU  WOLFF  was  to  all  appearances  a  tact- 
less, inquisitive  old  busybody;  but  she 
also  possessed  a  secretive  cunning,  a  jack- 
dawish  propensity  for  hoarding  information, 
which  she  hugged  jealously  to  herself  until  the 
moment  came  when  she  chose  to  disclose  it. 

During  the  days  which  followed  the  depar- 
ture of  the  Seybells  and  the  return  of  Grafin 
Rentier  and  Mrs.  Trevor  from  Cortina,  her 
opera  glasses  and  her  questioning  tongue  had 
been  very  busy,  and  she  learned  all  there  was 
to  learn  of  the  gossip  in  the  hotel  concerning 
the  accident  to  the  little  English  boy. 

That  it  had  been  an  accident  she  found 
was  an  accepted  fact.  She  picked  the  brains 
of  every  one  who  allowed  their  brains  to  be 
picked,  but  did  not  volunteer  any  informa- 
tion of  her  own  account. 

The  whole  of  that  week  she  found  very 
interesting.  The  little  English  boy  had  been 

295 


296        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

really  ill,  and  Frau  Trevor  must  be  much 
richer  than  was  supposed,  because  every 
luxury  of  which  the  hotel  could  boast  seemed 
to  be  at  her  disposal.  She  now  occupied  the 
most  expensive  suite  of  rooms  on  the  ground 
floor,  opening  on  to  a  private  part  of  the 
verandah,  and  a  special  messenger  went  daily 
to  the  nearest  town  and  returned  with  mys- 
terious packages  which  Frau  Wolff  knew  found 
their  way  to  these  rooms.  She  had  tried 
questioning  the  hotel  proprietor  about  them, 
but  had  found  him  very  stupid. 

One  evening  a  travelling  carriage  had  ar- 
rived at  the  Schloss  and  Frau  Wolff  had  caught 
a  glimpse  of  its  occupant  as  he  had  alighted. 
She  had  recognised  him  instantly.  It  was 
not  for  nothing  that  she  studied  the  photo- 
graphs of  the  celebrities  of  the  day.  He  was 
one  of  the  great  doctors  in  Vienna,  the  well- 
known  brain  specialist,  and  it  was  evident 
that  he  had  worked  a  miracle,  for  only  two 
or  three  days  after  his  visit  she  saw  the  little 
invalid  lying  on  a  couch  on  the  verandah. 

During  that  week  Frau  Wolff  had  paid 
several  visits  to  the  old  ruins  at  the  farm. 
What  she  expected  to  find  there  she  would 
have  been  at  a  loss  to  explain,  but  a  voice 
seemed  continually  to  call  her  to  the  spot, 


Frau  Wolff  Opens  Rudolf's  Eyes    297 

and  on  the  last  day  of  that  week  she  deter- 
mined to  make  one  more  visit  to  the  place. 
The  Kur  was  finished,  and  her  time  at  Wald- 
hof  had  come  to  an  end;  she  was  leaving  the 
Schloss  the  next  morning. 

She  started  earlier  than  usual  for  her  con- 
stitutional that  afternoon,  and  as  she  passed 
through  the  garden  the  sound  of  children's 
voices  came  to  her  from  the  direction  of  Frau 
Trevor's  rooms.  The  little  boy  must  cer- 
tainly be  much  better,  for  the  son  of  the  Frau 
Hauptman  was  playing  with  him  on  the 
verandah.  She  caught  a  glimpse  through 
the  creepers  of  Franz's  fat  legs  as  he  wheeled 
the  smaller  child  up  and  down  in  a  little 
carriage.  That  little  carriage  was  a  new  and 
most  extravagant  toy.  She  had  seen  it  being 
taken  across  the  courtyard  only  the  day  before 
by  one  of  the  hotel  servants;  Frau  Trevor 
must  indeed  be  rich. 

Half  an  hour  later  Rudolf  Scholan,  riding 
through  the  forest  on  his  way  back  to  Waldhof 
after  a  week's  absence,  drew  rein  as  he  came 
in  sight  of  the  old  Schloss.  He  had  been  in 
the  saddle  since  daybreak.  The  manoeuvres 
had  practically  come  to  an  end  that  morning, 
and  during  the  last  week  officers  and  men 


298        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

had  been  worked  hard.  He  had  ridden  on 
in  advance  of  the  General  and  his  staff.  His 
horse  was  tired,  and  he  was  tired  himself; 
tired  and  depressed  and  out  of  tune  with 
everything. 

In  ordinary  circumstances  he  would  not 
have  minded  the  hard  work,  and  would  not 
have  cared  whether  his  duty  had  kept  him  at 
Waldhof  or  taken  him  farther  afield;  but  it 
happened  that  everything  he  cared  for  just 
then  centred  round  Waldhof.  He  had  never 
found  a  week  so  long  or  soldiering  so  irksome. 

He  allowed  the  reins  to  drop  on  his  horse's 
neck,  and  looked  ahead.  The  grey  towers 
of  Schloss  Waldhof  basking  in  the  brilliant 
sunshine  mocked  him;  his  love  was  there, 
but  she  was  as  far  away  from  him  as  though 
she  inhabited  another  world.  He  had  heard 
the  gossip  about  the  accident  and  knew  that 
she  shut  herself  up  in  her  own  rooms  and 
devoted  herself  to  the  child  and  did  not  see 
any  one.  He  wondered  if  she  would  allow 
him  to  say  good-bye  to  her.  A  last  good-bye, 
for  the  camp  broke  up  the  following  day. 

He  touched  his  tired  horse  lightly  with  his 
spur  as  a  reminder  to  move  on.  In  front  lay 
the  stream,  and  jutting  into  it  at  that  par- 
ticular spot  were  the  ruins  of  the  old  farm. 


Frau  Wolff  Opens  Rudolf's  Eyes    299 

There  was  a  bridge  by  which  he  could  have 
crossed  to  the  other  side  higher  up,  but  he 
put  his  horse  at  the  water  and  splashed 
through.  As  the  animal  scrambled  up  the 
bank  on  the  farther  side,  he  saw  a  figure 
emerging  from  the  doorway  of  one  of  the  out- 
houses. It  was  Frau  Wolff.  He  glanced  at 
her  with  careless  contempt  and  was  riding  on 
when  something  in  her  appearance  struck  him 
as  peculiar.  She  had  evidently  been  taken 
by  surprise  and  had  a  furtive  look  as  though 
she  had  been  caught  in  the  act  of  doing  some- 
thing which  she  ought  not  to  have  been  doing. 
Cobwebs  were  smeared  over  her  dress  and  over 
the  tulle  trimmings  of  her  hat;  she  was  very 
hot,  and  looked  as  if  she  had  been  crawling 
about  on  her  hands  and  knees  in  the  dust. 

Frau  Wolff  was  more  than  surprised.  The 
young  Baron  coming  upon  her  so  unexpect- 
edly had  given  her  a  fright.  She  had  been 
holding  up  something  in  her  hand  which 
glittered;  she  hastily  tried  to  hide  it,  but 
only  succeeded  in  drawing  attention  to  her 
action. 

Her  face  went  a  dull  red  as  she  saw  Rudolf's 
expression  change  from  contempt  to  one  of 
frank  suspicion.  He  did  not  take  the  trouble 
to  hide  what  he  thought,  and  she  hated  the 


300        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

young  aristocrat  at  that  moment;  hated  him 
with  the  sullen,  smouldering,  hatred  of  race 
bitterness.  He  was  aristocrat,  and  he  made 
her  feel  it.  She  was  a  contemptible  creature 
in  his  sight. 

Rudolf  had  checked  his  horse.  He  sat 
quite  still  and  watched  her;  his  eyes,  sharp 
and  questioning,  going  from  her  face  to  the 
object  she  was  holding  in  her  hand.  It  was 
a  gold  bangle,  and  it  belonged  to  Vilma  Seybell. 
He  had  reason  to  know  that,  for  he  had  given 
it  to  her  himself  during  the  brief  period  when 
she  had  caught  his  fancy. 

Frau  Wolff's  dull  skin  took  on  a  deeper 
glow.  The  look  of  suspicion  on  the  young 
soldier's  face  roused  in  her  a  fury  of  resent- 
ment. She  shook  the  bangle  above  her  head, 
and  the  torrent  of  her  wrath  descended  on 
him  like  the  bursting  of  a  cyclone.  Quick- 
witted as  he  was,  he  failed  to  grasp  the  mean- 
ing of  what  she  was  talking  about.  It  sounded 
like  a  violent  denunciation  of  the  whole  social 
circle  of  Schloss  Waldhof.  She  scoffed  de- 
risively as  she  held  them  up  to  ridicule.  They 
despised  her,  these  aristocrats?  But  it  was 
she — she,  Frau  Wolff,  alone  who  had  found 
out  a  mystery  which  had  taken  place  in  their 
midst.  She  held  the  key  to  a  secret  which 


Frau  Wolff  Opens  Rudolf's  Eyes  301 

placed  the  reputation  of  one  of  the  haughtiest 
of  their  set  at  her  mercy. 

Rudolf's  blue  eyes  narrowed  and  he  bent  a 
little  forward  in  his  saddle.  What  did  the 
woman  mean?  She  stood  before  him  waving 
her  arms  and  gesticulating  like  a  creature 
possessed.  It  was  the  supreme  moment  of 
her  life!  For  once  she  had  risen  above  the 
narrowness  of  her  circumstances;  she  com- 
pelled attention:  she  revelled  in  the  glory  of 
her  triumph. 

With  a  lucidity  which  was  as  remarkable  as 
had  been  the  incoherence  of  her  first  attack, 
her  story  narrowed,  centred,  condensed,  round 
three  people — the  Englishman  and  Frau 
Trevor  and  the  young  Baronin  Seybell.  Then 
the  light  burst  upon  Rudolf,  for  she  spared 
him  nothing.  He  could  not  silence  her.  He 
was  forced  to  listen  to  the  story  of  Vilma's 
love  and  jealousy  and  hatred. 

And  it  meant  what?  That  it  was  the  Eng- 
lishman who  was  his  rival. 

His  heart  seemed  to  give  a  great  bound 
and  jump  back  into  its  proper  place.  He  sat 
more  erect  in  his  saddle,  and  the  hand  resting 
on  the  hilt  of  his  sword  tightened  its  grip. 
The  fighting  instinct  stirred  in  his  hot  young 
blood. 


302        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Frau  Wolff's  voice  rose  in  a  crescendo 
scream  as  she  went  on  to  describe  Vilma's 
pitiless  cruelty  of  revenge. 

"With  my  own  eyes  I  witnessed  how  the 
Baronin  Seybell  revenged  herself."  She 
pointed  backwards  to  the  dark  shed  from 
which  she  had  just  emerged,  and  then  to  the 
bank  where  she  had  sat  and  watched  and 
spied  and  listened,  and  shook  the  bangle 
again  above  her  head,  as  with  shrill  emphasis 
she  described  the  scene  for  Rudolf's  further 
enlightenment. 

The  finding  of  that  bangle  had  put  the 
crowning  touch  to  her  triumph.  It  con- 
victed Vilma  without  a  doubt.  It  had  been 
found  on  the  floor  of  the  old  cow-shed  among 
the  litter  and  rubbish,  and  it  had  been  torn 
from  Vilma's  wrist  in  her  struggle  with  the 
child  when  she  had  shut  him  in  behind  that 
great  heavy  door.  And  all  Waldhof  thought 
that  the  illness  of  Frau  Trevor's  little  boy 
was  the  result  of  an  accident,  and  that  it  was 
the  Englishman  who  was  to  blame  for  the 
accident.  Why?  Because  the  Englishman 
would  not  speak!  He  knew  what  the  Baronin 
Seybell  had  done.  He  knew  that  all  Waldhof 
and  Frau  Trevor  believed  that  it  was  his 
fault,  but  he  would  not  speak;  he  would  not 


Frau  Wolff  Opens  Rudolf's  Eyes  303 

clear  himself.  He  would  not  betray  the 
Baronin  Seybell. 

Frau  Wolff  laughed  scornfully.  How  clever 
the  Baronin  Seybell  had  been!  How  she  had 
fooled  the  Englishman!  Fooled  him  with  a 
few  smiling  words;  lured  him  from  the  spot 
and  carried  him  away  with  her  from  Waldhof , 
so  that  he  was  compromised  utterly.  Had 
not  Frau  Wolff  heard  her  tell  the  Englishman 
that  the  child  was  safe,  that  he  had  been  taken 
back  to  the  Schloss  by  his  nurse,  and  all  the 
time  he  was  shut  in  behind  that  great  heavy 
door?  Ah  yes,  the  young  Baronin  was  clever. 
She  had  determined  to  have  her  revenge,  and 
she  had  gained  it. 

Rudolf  held  up  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of 
command.  He  did  not  doubt  Frau  Wolff's 
story,  it  was  too  circumstantial  for  doubt. 
He  had  no  respect  for  Vilma,  and  no  sentiment 
regarding  her.  Her  conduct  had  been  in- 
famous, but  she  was  of  his  own  race,  and  for 
the  sake  of  the  name  she  bore  he  could ,  not 
leave  her  reputation  at  the  mercy  of  this 
woman's  scurrilous  tongue. 

With  a  quick  movement  he  brought  his 
horse  up  in  front  of  Frau  Wolff.  The  action 
disconcerted  her,  and  she  lurched  heavily 
backwards.  He  bent  from  the  saddle,  and 


304        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

before  she  realised  what  he  was  going  to  do, 
he  had  taken  the  bangle  out  of  her  hand. 
"It  is  the  Baronin  Seybell's,"  he  said.  "I 
will  give  it  back  to  her."  He  gave  a  jerk  to 
the  reins,  and  putting  his  horse  into  a  sharp 
trot  was  half-way  across  the  meadow  by  the 
time  she  had  recovered  herself. 

He  paid  no  attention  to  the  language  which 
followed  him.  Frau  Wolff's  story  would 
lose  its  point  now  that  she  had  no  proof  to 
show  of  its  veracity,  and  he  put  the  bangle 
in  his  pocket.  He  did  not  know  what  he  in- 
tended to  do  with  it,  but  it  was  quite  impos- 
sible that  it  should  remain  in  the  possession 
of  Frau  Wolff. 

As  he  rode  on  across  the  meadow,  he  was 
thinking  much  more  of  Myles  Egerton  as  his 
rival  in  ]ove  than  he  was  of  Vilma  Seybell. 
He  was  prickling  all  over  with  excitement; 
he  thirsted  to  do  something  actively  hostile. 
He  would  like  to  call  out  the  Englishman  that 
minute  and  fight  him.  How  was  it  that  he 
had  never  guessed  that  he  was  his  rival? 

It  was  in  such  a  state  of  mind  that  he  rode 
into  the  stable-yard.  Duty,  in  the  shape,  of 
a  mounted  orderly,  who  was  unfastening  a 
heavy  mail-bag  from  his  saddle,  met  him  at 
the  entrance.  He  answered  the  man's  salute, 


Frau  Wolff  Opens  Rudolf's  Eyes  305 

and  swung  himself  stiffly  off  his  horse.  The 
half  of  his  day's  work  still  lay  before  him, 
and  thoughts  of  calling  out  his  rival  must  wait. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  he 
was  kept  too  busy  to  have  time  to  think  of 
the  extraordinary  story  he  had  heard  from 
Frau  Wolff.  It  was  close  upon  six  o'clock 
before  he  found  himself  free,  and  then  he 
realised  that  he  was  very  hungry,  for  he  had 
not  touched  food  since  early  morning. 

He  went  over  to  the  restaurant  and  ordered 
supper  and  something  to  drink  at  once. 
Marie  welcomed  him  with  a  beaming  smile, 
and  hurried  away  to  give  the  order,  and  was 
quickly  back  again  with  a  foaming  glass  of 
beer,  which  he  drained  off  at  one  draught  and 
held  out  to  be  refilled. 

Schloss  Waldhof  was  famed  for  its  beer, 
and  in  the  hottest  weather  it  was  always  of 
a  delicious  coolness.  It  was  kept  in  small 
pine  barrels,  which  were  sunk  in  the  old  well 
in  the  garden  during  the  heat  of  the  day,  and 
brought  up  to  be  broached  just  before  the 
supper  hour. 

Rudolf  raised  the  second  glass  to  his  lips, 
and  smiled  at  Marie  over  the  rim.  Marie 
knew  that  she  was  being  admired.  All  the 
servants  adored  Rudolf,  and  she  chattered 


306        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

to  him  as  she  arranged  the  dishes  on  the  table, 
gratified  that  it  had  fallen  to  her  turn  to  wait 
upon  him. 

The  Saal  was  empty,  at  least  so  Rudolf 
thought,  for  the  hour  was  yet  early.  He  had 
half  drained  his  second  glass  when  his  eyes, 
happening  to  stray  beyond  Marie's  plump 
figure,  became  fixed,  and  the  smile  vanished 
from  his  face. 

"Sacrament!"  he  muttered. 

The  room  was  not  empty.  A  solitary  figure 
was  seated  in  the  alcove  by  the  window  at  the 
far  end.  It  was  the  Englishman.  He  had 
changed  his  position  during  the  last  minute 
and  come  prominently  into  notice 

Marie  just  then  placed  a  dish  on  the  table, 
and  took  off  the  cover. 

Calf's  head  stewed  in  mushrooms.  An 
excellent  supper,  and  Rudolf  was  very  hungry. 
He  bent  over  his  plate  and  picked  up  his 
knife  and  fork. 

Love  and  jealousy  were  raging  within  him. 
He  was  thirsting  for  a  fight;  but  it  was 
necessary  to  eat,  and  while  he  was  eating  he 
would  think  of  what  he  was  going  to  do  about 
his  rival.  Apparently  engrossed  in  chopping 
up  a  plate  of  salad,  he  shot  quick  glances 
across  the  room,  and  something  in  the  attitude 


Frau  Wolff  Opens  Rudolf's  Eyes   307 

of  the  quiet  figure  sitting  by  the  window 
made  him  feel  strangely  unappreciative  of 
the  good  fare  in  front  of  him. 

He  ate  mechanically.  He  caught  himself 
more  than  once  staring  at  a  mouthful  on  the 
end  of  his  fork,  and  then  putting  it  down 
again  untasted.  He  began  to  wonder  how 
long  the  Englishman  had  been  sitting  there. 
He  sat  so  very  quiet,  and  he  was  neither 
eating  nor  drinking,  and  paid  no  attention 
to  his  surroundings. 

Rudolf  moved  uncomfortably.  He  had 
always  liked  the  Englishman,  and  it  was  only 
that  afternoon  that  he  had  discovered  that  he 
was  his  rival.  The  grudge  he  bore  was  not 
of  long  standing. 

The  next  time  he  glanced  across  the  room 
that  motionless  figure  in  some  way  seemed  to 
reproach  him.  The  man  looked  ill,  and  the 
angularity  of  his  tall  figure  was  very  notice- 
able. His  features  seemed  to  have  sharpened ; 
he  had  not  looked  like  that  a  week  ago. 

Rudolf  beckoned  to  Marie  and  told  her  to 
bring  him  a  cup  of  strong  black  coffee  and  a 
small  cognac,  and  he  waved  aside  his  plate 
with  a  gesture  of  repugnance. 

Marie  brought  the  coffee.  She  looked 
distressed.  The  Herr  Baron  was  not  pleased 


308        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

with  his  supper?  Was  it  not  good?  Should 
she  bring  something  else?  He  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  her,  and  she  noticed  the  direction  in 
which  his  eyes  strayed.  She  shrugged  her 
shoulders  expressively.  The  English  Herr 
also  did  not  eat,  but  that  was  nothing  unusual. 
It  was  often  so,  since  that  affair  of  the  accident. 
The  Herr  Baron  had  of  course  heard  of  the 
accident? 

Rudolf  pretended  that  he  had  not  heard, 
and  Marie  was  quite  ready  to  enlighten  his 
ignorance.  Rudolf  wanted  to  find  out  how 
her  story  would  tally  with  Frau  Wolff's,  and 
it  did  so  far  as  to  account  for  little  Benjie 
Trevor's  illness.  It  threw  the  entire  blame 
of  what  had  happened  on  the  Englishman, 
and  Marie  gave  it  as  her  private  opinion  that 
his  position  at  Waldhof  must  be  a  most  un- 
enviable one.  What  must  Frau  Trevor  think 
of  him?  The  child  had  nearly  died. 

When  Marie  was  called  away  to  attend  to 
some  fresh  comers  Rudolf  lit  a  cigarette  and, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  watched  the  rings 
of  smoke  curl  into  little  spiral  columns  above 
his  head.  He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
felt  the  hard  outline  of  Vilma's  bangle.  Vilma 
was  a  fiend,  an  inhuman  monster.  It  was 
hardly  conceivable  that  a  woman  could  behave 


Frau  Wolff  Opens  Rudolf's  Eyes   309 

with  such  cruelty  to  a  little  child;  and  then 
to  go  away  and  leave  the  Englishman  to  bear 
the  blame!  It  had  been  a  despicable  way  of 
satisfying  her  jealousy. 

Rudolf  smoked  hard.  He  wished  that  his 
brain  would  not  suggest  so  many  uncomfort- 
able ideas,  for  the  other  man's  point  of  view 
kept  thrusting  itself  into  notice.  He  won- 
dered how  he  would  feel  himself  if  he  were  in 
the  Englishman's  place.  The  Englishman 
loved  Frau  Trevor.  That  must  make  his 
position  almost  unbearable.  To  know  that 
he  was  not  to  blame  and  to  feel  in  honour 
bound  to  shield  Vilma  Seybell! 

"Poor  devil!"  muttered  Rudolf,  and  a 
thought  flashed  through  his  mind.  "Why 
should  you  not  profit  by  your  rival's  fall? 
You  have  only  to  keep  silent.  No  one  will 
find  out  the  truth  if  you  do  not  speak." 
That  was  the  thought. 

The  good  and  the  bad  in  him  fought  hard. 
He  smoked  furiously,  then  dashing  his  ciga- 
rette into  his  coffee  cup,  he  held  it  down  and 
watched  it  splutter  out  amongst  the  dregs. 

"Poor  devil!  and  it  was  all  a  mistake — 
a  mistake!" 

He  repeated  and  repeated  the  last  two 
words.  No  one  knew  that  it  was  'a  mistake, 


310        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

and  it  would  remain  a  mistake,  for  the 
Englishman  would  not  speak.  He  intended 
to  shield  Vilma,  and  so  long  as  Rudolf  kept 
silence  no  one  would  know,  for  Frau  Wolff 
did  not  count.  He  had  clipped  her  wings 
when  he  had  taken  away  Vilma's  bangle. 

"I  want  always  to  think  of  you  as  I  have 
known  you — chivalrous,  and  truly  a  gentle- 
man." 

She  had  said  that,  and  she  had  looked  at 
him  with  that  look  which  he  loved  so  well 
when  she  had  spoken  these  words.  Could  he 
ever  feel  chivalrous  again  if  he  allowed  this 
wrong?  That  solitary  figure  sitting  alone 
over  there,  how  it  reproached  him !  He  could 
not  keep  his  eyes  away  from  it.  He  saw 
Myles  take  his  cigarette  case  out  of  his  pocket 
and  open  it ;  he  shut  it  slowly,  and  put  it  back 
again.  It  was  empty.  Rudolf  winced.  The 
man  had  eaten  nothing,  he  had  drunk  nothing, 
and  he  had  nothing  to  smoke.  That  last 
nothing  turned  the  scale;  a  small  thing,  but 
it  touched  Rudolf. 

Myles  had  been  paying  very  little  atten- 
tion to  anything  which  was  going  on  in  the 
room.  He  heard  a  footstep  and  the  click  of 
a  spur,  but  did  not  turn  his  head  until  a  voice 
addressed  him  by  name. 


Frau  Wolff  Opens  Rudolfs  Eyes   311 

He  looked  up. 

"Good-evening,"  said  Rudolf.  He  held 
an  open  cigarette  case  in  his  hand,  and  there 
was  an  odd  look  on  his  boyish  face;  eager, 
almost  apologetic.  "Will  you  smoke  with 
me?  I  find  it  langweilig  to  smoke  alone. 

Myles's  face  lightened;  he  put  his  hand  on 
the  back  of  a  chair  and  pushed  it  forward. 

' '  Thanks, ' '  he  said.    ' '  Won't  you  sit  down  ? ' ' 

Rudolf  accepted  the  chair  and  began  to 
talk  at  once.  He  plunged  into  the  subject 
which  was  uppermost  in  his  mind,  for  he  never 
had  any  difficulty  in  expressing  himself,  and 
he  was  unhampered  by  self-consciousness. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind  during  the  last 
half  minute  what  he  was  going  to  do,  and  he 
was  impatient  to  get  it  done.  If  Myles  had 
tried  to  stop  him,  it  would  have  had  no  effect 
whatever.  He  gave  no  time  for  remonstrance ; 
he  began  at  the  beginning  of  Frau  Wolff's 
story  and  he  finished  it  to  the  end;  he  told  it 
in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time,  and  he 
wound  up  with  a  scathing  criticism  on  Vilma's 
conduct. 

If  he  expected  that  Myles  would  open  his 
heart  to  him,  he  counted  upon  more  than  he 
got.  Perhaps  he  did  not  expect  it.  He 
knew  that  it  was  a  peculiarity  of  Englishmen 


312        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

to  like  to  hide  their  feelings,  and  that  the  more 
they  felt  the  less  they  showed. 

In  some  inexplicable  way  these  two  men, 
curiously  unlike,  came  to  an  understanding 
of  each  other.  On  Myles's  part  it  was  arrived 
at  more  by  what  was  left  unsaid  than  by 
what  was  said.  He  hardly  spoke  at  all.  He 
admitted  nothing,  and  Vilma's  name  did  not 
pass  his  lips;  but  Rudolf  knew  that  Frau 
Wolff's  story  was  true.  He  felt  a  profound 
admiration  for  this  man  who  preferred  to 
hold  his  tongue  and  allow  himself  to  be  mis- 
understood rather  than  clear  himself  at  the 
expense  of  the  woman  who  had  betrayed  him. 
And  Vilma  was  not  worth  the  sacrifice.  It 
was  all  wrong,  and  instead  of  triumphing, 
Vilma  ought  to  be  punished. 

He  felt  again  in  his  pocket  for  the  bangle 
and  pinched  it  with  satisfaction.  Some  day 
he  would  give  Vilma  a  fright  with  that 
bangle. 

The  room  was  filling  rapidly.  Rudolf  rose 
from  his  seat  and  stood  looking  down  at  his 
companion.  He  realised  that  Myles  would 
never  try  to  clear  himself,  and  he  respected 
his  silence. 

"It  is  conceivable  that  we  do  not  meet 
again,"  he  said. 


Frau  Wolff  Opens  Rudolf's  Eyes    313 

"Your  camp  breaks  up  to-morrow?"  an- 
swered Myles. 

Rudolf  nodded. 

"There  is  an  Inspection,  and  then — we 
march.  So!  It  is  the  life  of  the  soldier." 
He  held  out  his  hand  and  bowed  courteously. 
"I  would  wish  to  say  that  it  has  been  a  great 
pleasure  to  make  your  acquaintance.  I  like 
you  very  much." 

Myles  felt  strangely  touched.  He  returned 
the  hand-grasp  warmly  and  watched  the  slight 
soldierly  figure  thread  its  way  down  the 
length  of  the  crowded  room.  Many  eyes 
turned  in  the  same  direction,  and  many  voices 
called  out  a  greeting;  the  something  which 
was  lovable  in  Rudolf  appealed  to  men  and 
women  alike. 

As  he  reached  the  door  a  group  of  officers 
entered,  and  among  them  was  General  Rentier. 
The  General  drew  him  aside  and  entered  into 
animated  conversation ;  they  were  still  talking 
when  Myles  left  the  Saal. 

Myles  stood  on  the  restaurant  steps  out- 
side, wondering  what  he  was  going  to  do  with 
himself  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  The  door 
behind  opened  again;  Rudolf  had  followed 
him. 

"You  make  a  walk?"  he  asked. 


314        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"I  don't  know.  Yes— I  think  I  shall. 
Will  you  come?" 

Rudolf  laughed  and  shook  his  head. 

"I  thank  you  very  much,  but  I  have  busi- 
ness to  make."  He  looked  up  at  the  sky, 
and  then  all  round.  "The  day  has  been  hot. 
In  the  Kastanienwald  it  will  now  be  very 
agreeable." 

"Yes,"  Myles  answered  indifferently.  He 
might  as  well  go  to  the  Kastanienwald  as  any 
other  place. 

Some  one  called  Rudolf  from  within. 

"Good-night,"  said  Myles.  "I'm  sorry 
you  can't  come." 

He  looked  back  as  he  passed  out  of  the 
gateway;  Rudolf  was  still  standing  where  he 
had  left  him.  He  appeared  to  be  watching, 
and  then  his  name  was  called  once  more, 
and  Ilka  Rentier  came  out  on  to  the  steps. 
They  spoke  together  for  a  few  seconds  and 
Rudolf  pointed  to  the  garden.  Ilka  nodded 
and  he  took  her  arm,  and  together  they  walked 
down  the  terrace  and  were  lost  sight  of 
amongst  the  bushes. 

"I  wonder  if  he  will  tell  her,"  thought 
Myles  as  he  continued  his  way. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A     WELL-MEANING      BLUNDERER 

; '  /\ /I  UWER,  muwer,  do  look  at  me  whippin' 
*  »  *  Franz !  An'  he  's  kickin'  dust  like  a 
horse." 

''Yes,  my  darling,  I  'm  looking,"  and 
Rose  glanced  up  from  the  piece  of  work  in 
her  hand.  "Poor  Franz,"  she  murmured, 
and  then  raised  her  voice.  "Not  so  hard, 
Benjie.  He  has  n't  got  any  stockings  on." 

"But  his  legs  is  so  fat.  He  doesn't  feel, 
muwer." 

Franz  continued  ponderously  to  imitate 
the  prancings  of  a  restive  steed.  He  was 
conscientiously  endeavouring  to  do  his  best, 
and  he  kicked  with  stolid  energy  and  made 
plenty  of  noise.  His  driver  stood  up  in  the 
little  carriage  and  flourished  the  whip  round 
his  head,  urging  him  to  fresh  efforts. 

Rose  laid  down  her  work  to  watch  the 
children.  It  was  such  a  joy  to  hear  Benjie 
happy,  noisily  happy  again.  Involuntarily 

315 


3i6        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

she  shuddered  when  she  thought  of  those 
dreadful  days  and  still  more  dreadful  nights 
when  the  little  voice  had  been  one  long  con- 
tinued wail  of  fear  and  pain;  when  blistered 
lips  babbled  pitiful  nonsense;  when  sleep  re- 
fused to  close  the  staring  eyes  and  little  hot 
hands  clung  to  hers,  imploring  for  she  knew 
not  what. 

The  child  had  been  very  ill.  It  seemed 
incredible  that  he  should  have  recovered  so 
quickly.  She  was  quite  sure  he  would  not 
have  recovered  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  kind- 
ness of  these  warm-hearted  people  at  Wald- 
hof.  She  sat  and  pondered  over  it  all.  It 
made  her  feel  that  she  had  never  appreciated 
human  sympathy  at  its  proper  worth  before, 
and  from  the  most  unexpected  quarters  had 
come  her  greatest  help.  The  hotel  proprietor, 
whom  she  had  previously  looked  upon  as  a 
hard  man  of  business  and  quite  devoid  of 
sentiment,  had  shown  a  consideration  and 
forethought  which  had  been  quite  extraor- 
dinary. He  had  placed  his  best  suite  of  rooms 
at  her  disposal  and  begged  her  as  a  favour  to 
occupy  them.  He  had  always  been  ready  to 
send  messengers  to  the  town  when  required; 
hardly  a  day  had  passed  without  bringing 
some  proof  of  his  civility.  Her  eyes  rested 


A  Well-Meaning  Blunderer       317 

on  the  children  again.  That  little  carriage 
had  been  his  latest  attention.  He  had  sent 
it  over  to  her  rooms  the  day  before  with  a 
polite  message  delivered  by  Ilka  to  the  effect 
that  he  would  be  proud  if  Frau  Trevor  would 
make  use  of  it  for  the  amusement  of  the 
Kindchen.  It  was  only  lent,  of  course;  she 
would  not  have  accepted  it  otherwise. 

Rose  felt  a  twinge  of  conscience  when  she 
thought  of  how  unquestioningly  she  had 
trusted  everything  to  Ilka  during  the  last 
week.  It  was  Ilka  who  had  managed  and 
explained  and  smoothed  out  every  difficulty. 
Some  things  had  been  a  little  puzzling.  That 
affair  of  the  doctor,  for  instance;  she  must 
have  that  made  clearer,  and  her  brow  con- 
tracted into  an  anxious  frown.  Ilka  had 
explained  about  his  coming,  but  she  had 
been  too  anxious  at  the  time  to  worry  over 
explanations. 

That  doctor  had  saved  Benjie's  life — she 
was  sure  of  that.  He  had  made  the  child 
sleep.  She  felt  that  she  would  never  forget 
the  passion  of  relief,  the  agony  of  gratitude 
which  had  trembled  through  her  when  she  had 
watched  the  heavy  eyelids  close  over  the  burn- 
ing eyes.  He  had  slept.  Long  hours  of  deep 
sleep,  from  which  he  had  wakened  languidly 


3i 8        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

to  eat  and  then  to  fall  asleep  again.  And 
when  exhaustion  had  passed,  and  the  quick 
vitality  of  childhood  had  reasserted  itself, 
it  was  as  though  a  curtain  had  been  dropped 
between  the  present  and  the  past.  Behind 
that  impenetrable  veil  of  sleep  lay  all  the 
horror  and  pain  and  fear;  it  was  forgotten, 
blotted  out. 

From  thinking  of  these  things  she  was  roused 
by  Leopoldina,  who  appeared  carrying  a 
large  bunch  of  flowers  and  a  basket  of  cherries. 
Rose  took  the  cards  which  accompanied  these 
offerings.  She  read  the  complimentary  greet- 
ings and  then  laid  them  down  again.  It 
would  almost  have  seemed  as  though  the  bits 
of  cardboard  had  disappointed  her.  The 
flowers  and  fruit  were  from  visitors  in  the 
hotel,  and  she  was  continually  receiving  such 
marks  of  friendliness.  Every  one  had  shown 
kindness  to  her,  gone  out  of  their  way  to 
express  their  sympathy.  Every  one  except 
— she  drew  in  her  breath  sharply,  and  buried 
her  face  amongst  the  flowers.  Why,  she 
asked  herself,  and  she  had  asked  herself  the 
same  question  many  times,  had  Mr.  Egerton 
never  shown  regret  for  what  had  happened? 
Since  that  evening  when  he  had  carried  the 
unconscious  child  up-stairs  in  his  arms  and  laid 


A  Weil-Meaning  Blunderer       319 

him  on  the  bed  in  the  nursery  she  had  not 
seen  him,  had  hardly  heard  his  name  men- 
tioned. She  was  too  proud  to  speak  of  him, 
even  to  Ilka,  but  she  was  hurt  and  sore  and 
disappointed.  He  had  ignored  the  child's 
illness.  Such  heartless  indifference  was  in- 
explicable, for  she  could  not  forget  that  he 
had  admitted  that  it  was  his  fault.  She 
could  recall  now  the  expression  on  his  face 
when  he  had  told  her  that,  and  he  had  not 
looked  indifferent  then.  Bit  by  bit  lately 
the  details  of  that  evening  had  come  back  to 
her  out  of  a  confused  nightmare  of  horror. 
He  had  not  left  the  room  at  once.  Subcon- 
sciously she  had  been  aware  of  his  presence. 
She  remembered  now  turning  away  from  him, 
stunned,  stupefied  at  the  blow  he  had  dealt 
her.  The  instinct  of  mother-love  had  roused 
in  her  something  almost  savage.  What  had 
she  done?  What  had  she  said?  She  could 
not  remember. 

In  her  terror  perhaps  she  had  sent  him  from 
her  with  bitter  words;  but  he  ought  to  have 
known — if  he  loved  her. 

Was  it  true,  she  asked  herself,  that  he  had 
ever  told  her  that  he  loved  her?  She  was 
beginning  to  doubt.  How  could  he  forget? 
And  if  he  remembered,  how  could  he  remain 


320        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

indifferent?  Twist  it  which  way  she  could 
she  found  no  excuse  for  him. 

That  morning  she  had  questioned  Leopold- 
ina  as  to  how  she  had  come  to  let  the  child 
out  of  her  care,  and  Leopoldina,  in  retelling 
the  story,  had  remembered  details  which  in 
her  first  excitement  she  had  passed  over.  She 
mentioned  one  or  two  things.  The  young 
Baronin  Seybell  had  been  with  the  Herr 
Englishman  that  afternoon,  and  when  the 
Seybells  had  left  Schloss  Waldhof  he  had 
driven  away  with  them  in  their  carriage. 

Rose  asked  no  further  questions;  but  she 
felt  very  bitter.  He  had  forgotten  so  easily. 
She  did  not  realise  how  strong  her  faith  had 
been  in  him  until  he  had  failed  her. 

She  would  not  allow  herself  to  think  of  him. 
She  had  made  that  resolution  before  and 
broken  it.  It  filled  her  with  self -contempt 
to  find  that  her  will  was  weaker  than  her 
resolution. 

Benjie's  voice  recalled  her  to  the  present. 

"Muwer,  may  n't  we  go  dust  a  tiny  little 
bit  in  the  garden?" 

She  went  over  to  where  the  children  were 
playing,  and  Franz  looked  up  at  her  inter- 
rogatively with  round  solemn  eyes.  He  had 
been  told  by  his  mother  that  he  was  to  talk 


A  Well-Meaning  Blunderer       321 

English  when  he  was  with  Frau  Trevor,  but 
he  was  not  of  an  enterprising  nature  and  he 
was  a  child  of  few  words. 

" Abendessen,"  he  said,  and  smacked  his 
lips. 

Rose  smiled.  Franz  never  forgot  his  supper 
hour. 

"That  means  that  you  must  go  home," 
she  said.  "You  have  been  very  kind  to 
Benjie.  You  have  played  with  him  so  nicely. 
Will  you  come  again  to-morrow?" 

Franz  shook  his  head,  and  then  Rose  re- 
membered that  the  camp  at  Waldhof  was  to 
break  up  the  next  day  and  that  the  Frau 
Hauptman  would  be  leaving  with  the  other 
officers'  wives. 

"You  will  come  and  say  good-bye  then," 
she  said,  and  picked  out  a  large  bunch  of 
cherries  from  the  basket  beside  her. 

He  made  a  funny  little  stiff  bow,  and  kissed 
her  hand  and  said  " Danke  schon"  very 
politely,  and  went  away. 

"Muwer,  I  did  so  want  to  go  a  tiny  little 
bit  in  the  garden,"  pleaded  Benjie. 

Rose  considered.  She  was  so  afraid  of 
allowing  him  to  romp  in  case  he  got  excited. 
Now  that  he  was  comparatively  well  her 
difficulty  was  to  keep  him  quiet.  The  little 


322        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

carriage  had  taken  hours  of  anxiety  off  her 
mind,  for  he  was  never  tired  of  playing  with 
it.  It  was  so  real.  The  hood  went  up  and 
down,  and  the  door  handles  opened  and  shut 
with  a  fascinating  click,  and  it  had  silver 
lamps  with  green  candles  in  them,  and  the 
whip  was  exactly  like  a  real  carriage  whip. 

Benjie  saw  that  she  was  yielding. 

"Please,  muwer.  I  won't  whip  near  as 
hard  as  I  whipped  Franz — an'  you  can  kick!" 

"Can  I?"     She  laughed  at  his  earnestness. 

He  helped  to  push  the  carriage  over  the 
step,  and  fastened  the  reins  round  her 
waist. 

"Now  jump  in,"  she  said,  "and  sit  tight, 
because  perhaps  I  '11  run  away." 

It  was  easier  to  run  away  than  she  had 
expected.  The  part  of  the  garden  beyond 
the  verandah  was  a  wild  bit  of  ground  where 
the  foliage  straggled  in  luxuriant  profusion 
and  hid  the  dangers  of  the  narrow  pathways. 
The  little  carriage  was  as  springy  and  light 
as  a  ball  on  its  rubber-tyred  wheels,  and  ran 
of  its  own  accord.  With  Benjie  pulling  at 
the  reins  and  dragging  her  this  way  and  that, 
she  found  she  was  incapable  of  guiding  it. 
Before  they  had  gone  very  far  there  was  a 
scurry  and  a  scramble,  a  few  hair-breadth 


A  Well-Meaning  Blunderer       323 

escapes  round  corners,  and  Benjie  was  landed 
in  a  rose-bush. 

"I  knowed  we'd  do  that!"  he  exclaimed, 
jumping  to  his  feet.  "Is n't  it  fun,  muwer? 
Let  's  do  it  again." 

"No,  indeed,"  she  answered.  "It 's  much 
too  exciting;  and  oh,  what  a  pity!  Look  how 
we  Ve  scratched  the  paint."  She  righted 
the  carriage  and  showed  him  the  marks. 
"It 's  no  good  my  being  the  horse.  I  '11  have 
to  push  behind,  and  you  must  pretend  you  're 
driving." 

"Pertendin'  isn't  much  fun,  and — we've 
losted  the  whip." 

Before  she  could  stop  him  he  had  broken 
away,  and  a  sharp  corner  hid  him  from  sight. 
She  heard  voices,  Benjie's  and  another's, 
and  walked  back  a  few  steps.  Then  she 
stopped.  She  had  never  spoken  to  Mr.  Ridley, 
but  she  knew  him  quite  well  by  sight.  He 
was  standing  in  the  pathway  holding  Benjie's 
whip  in  his  hand,  and  the  child  was  planted 
in  front  of  him,  his  hands  behind  his  back  in 
his  favourite  attitude,  assuring  him  with 
eager  politeness  that  the  whip  belonged  to  him. 

Charles  did  not  see  Rose.  He  could  see 
nothing  just  then  except  what  was  immedi- 
ately beneath  his  notice.  He  had  been  taken 


324        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

by  surprise,  and  it  was  a  painful  and  startling 
surprise.  The  little  face  looking  up  into  his 
was  such  an  exact  counterpart  of  the  dead 
Cyril  Trevor's.  A  rush  of  long-forgotten 
memories  swept  up  before  him. 

"Cyril,"  he  murmured  huskily,  bending 
down. 

"I  'm  Benjie,"  answered  the  child.  "An* 
• — please,  may  I  has  my  whip?" 

"Benjie,  Benjamin?  Yes,  of  course,  of 
course."  Charles  fumbled  with  his  eye-glass 
string.  "Benjie.  But  you  're —  Dear,  dear, 
how  very  like."  He  hesitated.  "I — thought 
you  were  another  little  boy." 

Benjie  was  very  anxious  to  get  back  his 
whip,  which  was  dangling  just  above  him, 
and  it  was  rude  to  snatch. 

"I  'm  Benjie.  I  'm  not  another  little  boy. 
An'  please — may  I  has  my  whip?" 

Charles  recovered  himself  with  an  effort. 

' '  Your  whip  ?  Yes,  my  little  man.  There  's 
your  whip.  I  'm  so  glad  I  found  it.  It 's 
a  very  pretty  whip." 

"Yes,  isn't  it?"  Benjie  fingered  the  lash 
lovingly.  ' '  Thank  you  very  much. ' '  He  was 
turning  to  run  back  when  a  thought  struck 
him.  "Would  you  like  to  see  my  carriage? 
It 's  the  beautifulest  carriage.  It 's — it 's — '* 


A  Weil-Meaning  Blunderer      325 

Words  failed  him.  He  seized  Charles's  hand. 
"Come  and  see,"  he  cried. 

Only  then  was  Mr.  Ridley  aware  that  the 
child's  mother  was  standing  near.  He  had 
never  seen  Rose  except  in  the  distance,  and 
he  had  formed  no  idea  of  what  she  was  like. 
To  speculate  as  to  her  appearance  had  not 
occurred  to  him.  Dragged  into  her  presence 
without  any  warning,  he  received  a  great 
shock,  for  she  burst  upon  him  as  quite  a 
startling  revelation.  He  felt  himself  to  be 
blushing  furiously.  He  felt  that  he  ought  not 
to  look  at  her.  It  was  rude,  but  he  could  not 
help  it.  He  stood  and  blinked  and  blushed, 
and  murmured: 

"Poor  Cyril — no  wonder,  no  wonder; 
dear,  dear,  no  wonder."  Then  he  blushed 
hotter,  and  hoped  fervently  she  had  not 
heard. 

Rose  had  drawn  back  when  she  recognised 
Mr.  Ridley.  The  meeting  was  as  embarrass- 
ing for  her  as  it  was  for  him.  She  concluded 
he  knew  who  she  was.  Then  her  face  soft- 
ened, for  she  was  always  so  very  sorry  for  shy 
people.  They  suffered  such  agonies  of  self- 
consciousness  for  no  use  at  all,  and  she  tried 
to  put  him  at  his  ease. 

"Thank  you  so  much  for  finding  our  whip. 


326     -    With  the  Merry  Austrians 

It  must  have  tumbled  out  when  we  ran  down 
the  bank,"  and  she  smiled. 

The  smile  was  too  much  for  Charles.  He 
dropped  his  eye-glasses,  and  then  put  them 
on  again  and  apologised,  although  there  was 
nothing  to  apologise  for. 

She  made  worse  havoc  by  smiling  again. 

"We  have  n't  tried  the  garden  paths  before, 
and  they  are  so  slippery.  But  my  little  boy 
grew  tired  of  playing  on  the  verandah." 

"Yes,  yes;  of  course  I  heard.  I  hope  he 
is  better?  I  hope  he  has " 

Charles  stammered  and  broke  off.  It  was 
somehow  conveyed  to  him  that  she  did  not 
wish  him  to  speak  before  the  child  of  his 
illness.  To  cover  his  confusion  he  stooped 
down  and  patted  Benjie  on  the  head.  It 
seemed  a  safe  thing  to  do.  People  generally 
patted  children. 

Benjie  twisted  round  and  round  and  stared 
up  at  Charles  until  Rose  grew  uneasy.  She 
was  afraid  of  his  making  personal  remarks 
which  might  not  be  complimentary,  and  she 
said  something  to  draw  his  attention  to  the 
little  carriage.  In  a  moment  he  was  all 
eagerness  to  show  it  off.  He  hopped  in  and 
out,  and  clicked  the  doors,  and  bumped  up 
and  down  on  the  red  velvet  cushions,  and 


A  Well-Meaning  Blunderer       327 

smothering  himself  underneath  the  hood  had 
to  wriggle  out  feet  foremost. 

Charles  beamed  through  his  eye-glasses 
and  admired  and  praised.  He  had  been  feel- 
ing lonely  and  depressed  that  afternoon. 
The  child's  chatter  and  the  mother's  soft 
voice  were  pleasant  to  his  ears.  English 
voices!  He  was  so  tired  of  the  continuous 
gabble  of  a  tongue  which  he  could  not  under- 
stand. 

"It  is  certainly  wonderful  how  ingeniously 
such  things  can  be  made,"  he  said,  appealing 
shyly  to  Rose. 

"  It  is  almost  too  fascinating,"  she  answered. 
"I  wish  we  could  keep  it  always." 

"But  I  'm  g.oin'  to  keep  it,"  exclaimed 
Benjie.  "I  'm  goin'  to  keep  it  always, 
muwer." 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  chimed  in  Charles. 

Rose  made  a  deprecatory  movement  of  her 
hands. 

"I  dare  not  encourage  him  in  false  hopes. 
It  is  only  lent  to  us.  We  must  give  it 
back." 

"Lent?"  echoed  Charles.  "I— I  thought 
— I  was  under  the  impression  that  it  had  been 
given  to  your  little  boy." 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise,  and  wondered 


328        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

how  he  knew  anything  about  the  child's 
plaything. 

"It  is  only  lent,"  she  repeated,  and  hoped 
he  would  have  the  tact  to  say  nothing  more. 

But  tact  was  not  Charles's  strong  point; 
he  persisted.  He  was  less  nervous  now,  and 
a  delicious  feeling  of  importance  swelled 
within  him.  He  laughed — quite  a  knowing 
little  laugh — and  patted  Benjie's  head  again. 

"I  know  all  about  it,"  he  said.  "It's 
yours,  to  do  just  what  you  like  with."  He 
turned  to  Rose,  hastening  to  explain.  "I 

am  quite  sure  that  Mr. "  then  he  stopped, 

some  faint  doubt  crossing  his  mind. 

"You  mean  the  hotel  proprietor,"  said 
Rose.  "He  lent  it  to  us,  but  we  have  to  give 
it  back." 

Benjie  pulled  at  her  skirt.  His  face  was 
very  red. 

"Muwer,  he  says  it's  mine,"  he  cried 
excitedly. 

Charles  was  much  perturbed.  It  was  so 
unnecessary  that  the  child  should  be  disap- 
pointed, and  all  through  some  muddle  probably 
of  the  hotel  keeper's.  He  smiled  and  nodded 
down  into  the  eager  face  upraised  to  his.  It 
was  so  fortunate  that  he  could  put  this  stupid 
mistake  right,  for  it  happened  that  he  knew 


A  Weil-Meaning  Blunderer       329 

all  about  it.  That  little  carriage  had  arrived 
only  the  day  before,  packed  in  a  case  and 
addressed  to  Myles.  Myles  was  absent  and 
Charles  had  been  asked  to  sign  the  receipt  for 
the  delivery  of  the  package.  He  remembered 
all  the  circumstances  distinctly.  The  con- 
tents of  the  package  had  to  be  examined  and 
declared  before  him  by  the  official  who  had 
delivered  it.  It  had  been  very  confusing,  as 
he  could  not  understand  what  the  man  said. 
He  had  ventured  to  ask  Myles  afterwards 
what  he  intended  to  do  with  such  a  curious 
thing — a  child's  perambulator  practically — • 
and  Myles  had  answered  rather  vaguely. 
Now,  of  course,  he  understood.  It  was  like 
Myles  to  give  a  present  and  not  say  much 
about  it. 

Charles  felt  quite  genial  and  paternal, 
almost  as  if  he  had  given  the  present  himself. 

"It 's  your  very,  very  own,  my  little  man." 
He  rubbed  his  hands  softly  together  and 
smiled  at  the  child,  and  then  addressed  him- 
self to  the  mother.  "  I  feel  that  I  am  justified 
in  clearing  up  this  misunderstanding.  I  am 
sure  my  friend,  Mr.  Egerton,  will  be  very 
much  annoyed  when  he  hears  it.  Of  course,  he 
intended  your  little  boy  to  keep  the  carriage." 

Rose   flushed   crimson.     She   was   on   the 


33°        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

point  of  speaking,  and  then  checked  herself. 
Charles  was  quite  unconscious  of  the  effect 
his  words  had  produced,  and  he  was  not  look- 
ing at  her.  He  had  been  seized  upon  by 
Benjie,  who  was  trying  to  fasten  a  pair  of  red 
leather  reins  round  his  waist.  Feebly  he 
protested  and  revolved  like  a  dying  teetotum 
in  his  efforts  to  free  himself. 

"Muwer,  do  look!"  cried  the  child. 

' '  Benjie,  come  here ! ' ' 

The  tone  was  so  sharp  and  peremptory, 
so  unlike  his  mother's,  that  Benjie  stared 
and  dropped  the  reins. 

What  happened  after  that  Charles  never 
could  quite  remember.  He  was  n't  exactly 
dismissed,  but  he  was  helped  out  of  the  way. 
Mrs.  Trevor's  manner  had  been  peculiar. 
Perhaps  she  was  offended  because  he  did  not 
play  with  the  child. 

Benjie  watched  him  go  regretfully. 

"What  a  funny  red  face  he  's  got,  muwer. 
D'  ye  sink  he  'd  been  cryin'?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Rose,  and  she 
was  quite  silent  as  she  wheeled  him  back  to 
the  verandah. 

She  found  Ilka  Rentier  sitting  in  the  chair 
she  had  left  only  a  short  time  ago.  Ilka  was 
picking  out  the  ripest  cherries  from  the  basket 


A  Well-Meaning  Blunderer      331 

on  the  table  beside  her,  and  when  she  caught 
sight  of  Rose  she  called  out: 

"Come — come  quickly!  If  you  do  not 
there  will  be  nothing  left  but  emptiness." 

Rose  walked  over  to  where  Ilka  was 
sitting. 

"Ilka,  I  have  found  you  out,"  she  said 
abruptly.  "It  was  not  the  hotel  proprietor 
who  sent — that,"  and  she  pointed  to  Benjie 
and  his  carriage.  "I  have  found  out  who 
sent  it.  Why  did  you  deceive  me?  " 

Her  eyes  were  sparkling,  and  the  colour 
was  coming  and  going  in  her  cheeks. 

Ilka  popped  a  cherry  into  her  mouth  and 
laughed.  She  was  not  in  the  least  abashed; 
she  had  been  watching  Rose's  expression  as 
she  came  up  the  steps  and  was  prepared  for 
what  was  coming.  The  time  had  arrived  for 
her  little  intrigue  to  develop.  She  had  come 
over  to  the  Schloss  bubbling  with  excitement, 
because  she  had  just  parted  from  Rudolf,  and 
Rudolf  had  told  her  the  story  he  had  heard 
from  Frau  Wolff.  Ilka  was  triumphant,  for 
her  belief  in  the  Englishman  was  justified. 
She  had  known  all  along  that  he  was  shelter- 
ing some  one,  and  to  think  that  that  some  one 
was  Vilma!  Vilma!  How  she  detested  her! 
It  gave  her  some  satisfaction  to  think  that 


332        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

now  she  could  detest  her  even  more  thoroughly 
than  she  had  done  before. 

She  popped  another  cherry  into  her  mouth 
and  laughed  again.  She  was  so  jubilant  she 
must  laugh,  and  even  if  Rose  were  angry 
with  her  she  could  not  help  it. 

"Ilka,  Ilka,  what  have  you  been  doing?" 
Rose's  voice  trembled  with  anger,  and  some 
other  feeling,  which  she  did  not  try  to  analyse. 

Ilka  jumped  up  and  kissed  her  impulsively 
on  both  cheeks. 

"They  are  so  pink,  just  like  the  roses  of 
your  own  name.  And  if  I  did  not  love  you 
very  much,  I  would  be  afraid  of  the  thorns. 
You  are  angry  with  me.  But  why — why?  " 

"You  know!  Ilka,  how  could  you?  I  am 
angry — I  am  very  angry." 

"Why?"  repeated  Ilka. 

"Because — you  know  quite  well."  She 
glanced  round,  a  new  fear  dawning  upon  her. 

' '  Were  there  other  things  ? ' ' 

Ilka's  eyes  danced. 

"Heaps  of  other  things — mountains  of 
other  things.  So  many  that  I  cannot  count 
them  upon  all  my  fingers  together.  It  has 
been  a  great  conspiracy;  I  do  not  think  that 
I  have  ever  conspired  so  beautifully  in  all  my 
life  before." 


A  Well-Meaning  Blunderer      333 

Rose  sank  down  on  a  chair  and  gazed  at 
her  blankly. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  these  rooms, 
and  the  things  that  I  thought  had  been  done 

for  me  by  the  hotel  proprietor,  have  been " 

She  stopped. 

"Yes,"  said  Ilka  unblushingly.  "All- 
everything.  The  hotel  proprietor!  Pouff 
He  is  nothing.  He  do  what  he  is  told."  She 
raised  her  eyebrows  expressively.  "You  have 
guessed?  You  know?  To  have  such  a  friend 
is  most  noble,  I  think.' ' 

"Oh  don't — please  don't!"  exclaimed  Rose. 
She  put  her  hands  before  her  face.  "Let  me 
think.  I  can't  take  it  all  in.  What  shall  I 
do?" 

"But  there  is  nothing  to  do,  it  is  already 
done.  What  would  you?  The  little  one  is 
now  altogether  well." 

Rose  dropped  her  hands;  Ilka's  words 
presented  a  new  terror. 

"The  doctor?  "  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper. 
"Who  was  he?  Where  did  he  come  from? " 

"From  Vienna.  He  is  a  most  distinguished 
person."  Ilka's  voice  softened.  "And  was 
it  not  right  for  him  to  come?  At  once  the 
little  one  began  to  grow  better." 

Rose  got  up  from  her  chair  and  walked 


334        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

to  the  far  end  of  the  verandah.  Movement 
was  a  necessity;  she  could  not  sit  still.  Ilka 
went  on  playing  with  the  cherries.  She 
understood  quite  well  what  Rose  was  feeling, 
and  the  kindest  thing  to  do  was  to  leave  her 
alone. 

Presently,  as  she  expected,  she  came  back 
and  stood  in  front  of  her.  No  longer  as  pink 
as  the  roses  of  her  own  name;  she  was  very 
white. 

"Ilka,  you  don't  know  what  you  have 
done,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "You  don't 
know  the  circumstances,  and  I  can't  explain; 
but  you  have  put  me  in  a  dreadful  position. 
I  can't  take  these  things."  Her  voice  quiv- 
ered and  she  burst  out  passionately:  "Why 
did  you  let  him  do  it?  It  was  not  honourable 
of  him  to  hide  behind  you." 

Ilka's  flippancy  vanished.  She  caught 
Rose's  hand  and  drew  her  down  on  a  chair 
beside  her.  She  did  not  speak  just  at  once, 
then  she  said  gravely: 

"Herr  Egerton  is  the  most  honourable 
gentleman  I  have  ever  met  in  all  my  life." 

Rose  tried  to  draw  her  hand  away,  but 
Ilka  held  it  fast. 

"Listen  to  me,"  she  said,  "and  I  will  tell 
you  why  I  say  such  a  thing." 


A  Weil-Meaning  Blunderer      335 

Then  she  told  her.  She  did  not  try  to 
plead  Myles's  cause:  it  did  not  seem  to  her 
that  that  was  necessary.  She  told  the  story  of 
Vilma's  treachery,  and  she  told  it  as  briefly 
as  she  could.  She  knew  it  would  be  torture 
to  Rose  to  listen,  to  hear  what  Vilrna  had 
done  to  the  child.  She  was  determined  that 
Myles  should  be  cleared,  but  it  required  an 
enormous  effort  to  enable  her  to  speak  temper- 
ately. She  almost  choked  over  Vilma's  name. 
She  would  like  to  have  spat  it  out  between 
her  teeth  like  some  noxious  evil  thing,  but 
by  a  supreme  effort  she  maintained  her  dignity 
to  the  end. 

Rose  sat  perfectly  still  and  listened.  She 
did  not  interrupt  or  ask  a  single  question. 
Even  when  Ilka  had  finished  speaking  she 
did  not  move,  only  her  eyes  went  slowly  to 
the  place  where  Benjie  was  playing,  and  then 
back  to  Ilka's  face. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  and  then  Ilka 
touched  her  hand. 

" Liebling,"  she  said  softly. 

Rose  started.  A  wave  of  colour,  hot  and 
fierce,  dyed  her  white  cheeks.  Her  bosom 
rose  and  fell  and  the  breath  came  in  quick 
sobs  through  her  parted  lips.  She  rose  to 
her  feet  and  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute, 


336        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

then  she  ran  across  to  where  the  child  was 
playing. 

She  caught  him  up,  holding  him  tightly 
to  her,  murmuring  his  name,  kissing  his  be- 
wildered little  face  passionately. 

He  stroked  her  cheek.  It  was  wet,  and  his 
lip  trembled. 

"Muwer,"  he  cried,  and  threw  his  arms 
round  her  neck. 

Ilka  gathered  her  skirts  together  noiselessly 
and  glanced  backwards  over  her  shoulder  as 
she  tiptoed  across  the  verandah. 

"It  will  now  be  all  right,"  she  said  to  herself 
smiling. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN    THE    KASTANIENWALD 

ILKA  was  barely  out  of  sight  of  the  verandah 
when  she  met  Rudolf.  She  had  parted 
from  him  only  a  short  time  ago  and  he  had 
told  her  then  that  he  was  to  be  very  busy  all 
evening. 

"Where  are  you  going?  "  she  said.  Brother 
and  sister  when  they  were  alone  together 
spoke  in  their  native  tongue. 

He  put  his  head  on  one  side  and  looked 
at  her.  She  knew  Rudolf's  ways  very  well. 
When  he  looked  like  that  she  was  always 
suspicious. 

"Where  are  you  going?  "  she  repeated. 

"  Have  you  told  Frau  Trevor  about  Vilma?  " 
he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  have  told  her." 

"Then  I  go  to  pay  my  adieus." 

She  slipped  her  arm  through  his  and  turned 
him  round  in  the  direction  she  was  going 

22  337 


338        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

herself.  She  did  not  wish  him  to  go  and  see 
Rose.  She  was  not  at  all  sure  how  far  he  was 
to  be  trusted. 

Rudolf  went  with  her  unresistingly.  He 
knew  Ilka's  ways  quite  as  well  as  she  knew 
his,  and  he  was  biding  his  time. 

"Was  she  very  much  shocked?"  he  asked. 

Ilka  told  him  as  much  as  she  thought  it 
was  good  for  him  to  know.  Then  she  went 
on  to  talk  to  him  about  himself  with  a  gentle 
air  of  motherliness  which  he  understood 
perfectly.  He  knew  that  she  did  not  wish 
him  to  go  and  say  good-bye  to  Rose,  but  he 
was  quite  determined  to  go.  He  had  a  reason. 
An  odd,  romantic,  quixotic  reason  which  had 
laid  hold  of  his  imagination. 

He  walked  as  far  as  the  big  door  which 
led  up  to  Ilka's  rooms. 

"Now  I  leave  you.  I  go  to  say  good-bye 
to  Frau  Trevor,"  he  said. 

Ilka  twisted  the  fringe  of  his  sword  sash 
round  her  finger  and  tried  to  detain  him. 

"It  is  too  late  to  pay  calls  on  a  lady,"  she 
said. 

"It  is  never  too  late  to  be  polite,"  he  re- 
torted. "I  cannot  go  away  without  saying 
good-bye.  She  would  think  me  very  rude." 

Ilka  still  held  him. 


In  the  Kastanienwald  339 

"Promise  me,  then,  that  you  will  be  good." 

Rudolf  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"How  can  I  promise?  If  she  smiles  on  me 
I  will  not  remember  whether  I  am  good  or 
bad." 

Ilka  twisted  the  fringe  still  tighter. 

"Rudi,"  she  said  coaxingly,  "I  wish  you 
to  do  something  to  please  me.  I  am  so  sorry 
for  this  Englishman;  he  has  behaved  most 
honourably.  Could  you  not  say  that  you 
think  he  is  a  very  noble  man?" 

"Gott  Himmel!  And  cut  my  own  throat?" 
Rudolf  made  a  grimace.  "It  is  too  much." 

"When  your  head  is  off  already,  what  does 
it  matter?  Rudi,  be  good.  That  poor  En- 
glishman !  He  is  as  thin  as  needles.  He  will 
die  of  a  consumption — and — she  does  not  love 
you." 

He  twisted  himself  free  and  ran  away  from 
her  before  she  could  stop  him. 

He  slackened  his  pace  as  he  neared  the 
Schloss,  and  considered  what  he  ought  to  do. 
Whether  to  have  himself  announced  formally, 
or  risk  no  chance  at  all,  but  walk  boldly  up 
to  the  verandah  and  trust  to  finding  Rose 
sitting  there. 

She  saw  him  coming.  She  was  alone,  for 
Benjie  had  been  taken  off  to  bed.  When  he 


340        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

saw  her  smile  he  wondered  if  he  was  brave 
enough  to  carry  out  his  resolve. 

But  she,  who  was  dreaming  her  own  dreams, 
only  saw  that  he  walked  lightly  and  carried 
his  head  high. 

His  first  words  reproached  her  as  he  bent 
low  over  her  hand. 

"I  have  come  to  say  that  word  which  in 
English  I  do  not  like — Good-bye,"  he  said. 

"Ah!  I  had  forgotten! — I  mean  I  am  so 
sorry  you  are  going  away."  In  her  contrition 
to  make  amends  for  having  forgotten  that  he 
was  going  away  she  stumbled  into  the  error 
of  confessing  it. 

He  looked  at  her  wistfully.  He  felt  that 
he^  would  rather  that  she  was  not  too  kind. 
He  had  braced  himself  to  make  a  great  sacri- 
fice— a  great  renunciation;  but  he  loved  her, 
and  it  was  dangerous  to  play  with  fire. 

He  drew  himself  up. 

"Yes.  I  come  to  say — good-bye.  It  is 
not  an  agreeable  word." 

"Then  we  will  not  say  it,"  she  answered 
quickly.  "Your  German  way  is  so  much 
prettier.  Auf  Wiedersehen — Till  we  meet 
again?  I  hope  we  shall  meet  again." 

He  did  not  echo  the  wish,  which  chilled  her 
a  little.  Her  conscience  was  still  tender 


In  the  Kastanienwald  341 

«•• 

whenever  she  thought  of  that  night  at 
Cortina. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  she  said.  "It  is 
very  good  of  you  to  find  time  to  come  and 
see  me."  She  lowered  her  voice.  "We  must 
not  speak  loud.  My  little  boy  is  being  put 
to  bed,  and  if  he  hears  you  he  will  want  to 
run  out  and  play  with  you." 

'"Ah— the  little  one.  He  is  better?  Well? 
I  am  glad." 

Rudolf  spoke  with  perfunctory  politeness, 
and  he  made  no  attempt  to  take  the  chair 
which  had  been  offered  him.  Rose  felt  more 
chilled,  for  Rudolf  had  seemed  so  fond  of  the 
child,  and  yet  he  did  not  appear  interested 
when  she  mentioned  his  name.  But  she 
wanted  to  be  kind,  so  she  asked  him  again 
if  he  would  not  sit  down. 

Rudolf  looked  at  the  chair,  and  then  at 
her. 

"Will  you  make  a  little  walk  with  me?" 
he  said. 

The  perfunctory  manner  vanished,  and  he 
waited  anxiously  for  her  answer. 

"A  walk?" 

"It  is  a  most  pleasant  evening.  I  think 
it  would  be  very  agreeable  to  make  a  little 
walk  in  the  Kastanienwald." 


342        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered  doubtfully. 
"I  never  go  far  away — now." 

"But  we  will  not  go  far  away.  Liebe 
Frau,  to-morrow  I  depart.  Will  you  not 
give  me  the  last  favour  I  ask  of  you?  " 

She  could  not  be  so  ungracious  as  to  refuse. 
He  might  think  that  she  did  not  trust  him. 
She  did  trust  him,  and  she  wished  to  show  him 
that  she  did. 

"I  will  come,"  she  said.  "One  minute. 
I  must  tell  Leopoldina  where  I  have  gone," 
and  she  left  him. 

Rudolf  gave  a  deep  sigh.  "I  find  it  very 
difficult  to  be  good,"  he  murmured,  and  his 
hand  went  to  the  breast  of  his  tunic,  feeling 
for  something  which  lay  hidden  there. 

When  Rose  appeared  again  she  carried  a 
sunshade  in  her  hand,  but  she  had  not  put  on 
a  hat.  It  had  been  a  scorching  hot  day, 
and  a  faint  breeze  had  come  up  with  the 
lengthening  shadows. 

"I  don't  really  want  any  shade,"  she  said. 
"The  sun  will  have  gone  down  in  a  few 
minutes." 

Rudolf  agreed  with  her  politely.  He 
walked  alongside,  but  not  very  near,  and  he 
made  conversation.  She  wished  he  would 
be  his  own  natural  self.  Perhaps  it  was  only 


In  the  Kastanienwald  343 

his  anxiety  to  show  her  respect  that  made 
him  behave  so  oddly;  and  thinking  this  she 
redoubled  her  efforts  to  be  kind. 

When  they  came  to  the  Kastanienwald 
they  walked  on  as  far  as  the  Shrine  which 
she  had  been  accustomed  to  pass  so  often  in 
her  evening  rambles.  Beyond  it  was  a  wooden 
bench  propped  against  the  stem  of  a  giant 
chestnut  tree,  and  Rudolf  suggested  that  they 
should  sit  down.  The  turf  about  their  feet 
sent  out  a  delicious  aromatic  perfume;  it  was 
powdered  with  tiny  white  flowers,  which 
were  softly  closing  their  petals  for  the  night. 
The  forest  was  very  still,  and  between  the 
gnarled  old  branches  of  the  trees  could  be  seen 
glimpses  of  the  valley  below,  meadows  heaped 
with  long  lines  of  new-mown  hay,  and  orchards 
bathed  in  the  mellow  light  of  the  setting  sun. 

"It  is  most  beautiful — most  poetique,"  said 
Rudolf;  and  then  he  began  to  talk  about 
squirrels ! 

A  squirrel  had  run  along  a  bough  of  the  tree 
under  which  they  were  sitting.  It  skipped 
from  branch  to  branch,  and  then  sat  peeping 
down  at  them,  a  little  brown  splash  of  colour 
amongst  the  green. 

"Do  you  see  him?"  he  whispered.  "I  wil 
catch  him." 


344        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

Rose  shook  her  head. 

"No,"  she  whispered  back.  "There!  He 
has  gone  already." 

Rudolf  held  up  his  finger. 

"Do  not  move.  Do  not  turn  your  head. 
I  will  show  you  that  I  catch  him."  And 
treading  cautiously  he  crept  round  to  the 
back  of  the  tree. 

His  feet  sank  into  the  mossy  turf  and  made 
no  sound.  She  waited  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  then  called  softly: 

"Have  you  caught  him?" 

No  answer  came  back,  and  she  called  again, 
but  still  there  was  silence.  She  heard  a  rustling 
in  the  leaves  overhead,  and  the  squirrel  popped 
out  again.  The  whole  of  his  brown  body  was 
visible;  no  one  was  attempting  to  catch  him, 
and  he  knew  it. 

Rose  stretched  round  until  she  could  see 
quite  behind  the  tree  stem.  Rudolf  had 
vanished. 

She  got  up  and  walked  this  way  and  that, 
thinking  he  might  be  hiding  behind  some  of 
the  other  trees,  until  she  found  herself  at  the 
entrance  to  the  Shrine.  She  looked  inside 
and  stood  in  the  archway  for  a  few  minutes 
listening,  but  there  was  neither  sight  nor 
sound  of  him.  The  forest  seemed  quieter 


In  the  Kastanienwald  345 

than  ever:  the  leaves  hung  motionless  in  the 
still  air:  everywhere  there  breathed  out  a 
languorous,  drowsy  sweetness;  Nature's  last 
sigh  for  the  passing  of  another  day. 

She  lingered;  the  peace  and  fragrance  held 
her.  For  a  whole  week  she  had  hardly  been 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  verandah,  and  here 
it  was  so  cool  and  quiet;  a  little  mysterious 
where  the  long  green  glades  melted  into  the 
grey  distance. 

She  had  almost  forgotten  Rudolf.  A  church 
bell  striking  the  hour  roused  her;  it  was  later 
than  she  thought,  and  she  must  go  back. 
She  could  not  understand  Rudolf  at  all,  for 
it  did  not  seem  to  her  a  very  appropriate  time 
to  play  hide  and  seek.  It  showed  what  a  boy 
he  was  to  do  such  a  thing,  and  she  felt  she 
ought  to  be  glad,  but  was  conscious  of  dis- 
appointment. Perhaps  he  would  take  her 
by  surprise  on  her  way  back.  Then  she  re- 
membered that  she  had  left  her  sunshade 
lying  on  the  bench,  and  she  retraced  her  steps. 

The  sunshade  was  not  where  she  had  left 
it.  It  was  standing  upright,  with  the  point 
stuck  into  the  ground,  and  something  small 
and  white  rested  on  the  handle.  It  was  just 
as  though  a  white  bird  had  fluttered  down 
from  a  branch  and  lighted  there.  She  touched 


346        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

the  thing  curiously.  It  fell  on  the  carpet 
of  moss  amongst  the  sleepy  flowers,  and 
she  saw  what  it  was.  It  was  her  own 
handkerchief:  the  little  white  swan  which 
Rudolf  had  made  for  his  Lohengrin  the  day 
of  the  picnic. 

How  young  he  was,  she  thought  again, 
and  smiled.  He  was  probably  watching  her, 
and  in  another  minute  she  would  hear  his 
boyish  laugh  and  see  him  spring  out  from 
some  hiding-place. 

Then  she  saw  that  a  scrap  of  paper  was 
twisted  into  one  of  the  folds  of  the  hand- 
kerchief. She  took  it  out  and  opened  it. 
One  word  was  written  across  it : 

"Good-bye." 

A  lump  rose  in  her  throat ;  it  was  not  a  joke 
at  all.  It  was  something  infinitely  pathetic; 
something  which  stabbed  her  and  hurt  her 
and  made  her  heart  ache  for  Rudolf.  .She 
understood  what  he  meant  as  clearly  as  though 
he  had  told  her. 

"Good-bye."  That  was  why  he  had  not 
echoed  her  " Auf  Wiedersehen."  She  had 
wondered  at  the  time.  There  was  to  be  no 
"Till  we  meet  again."  He  meant  it  to  be 
"Good-bye."  He  wanted  to  try  and  forget 
her,  and  to  make  his  forgetting  complete  he 


In  the  Kastanienwald  347 

had  given  her  back  the  little  white  swan — 
his  gage  d' amour,  he  had  laughingly  called  it. 

The  scene  in  the  restaurant  on  the  day  of 
the  picnic  came  back  to  her.  The  low- 
panelled  room  and  the  applauding  crowd, 
gaily  indifferent  to  the  crash  of  the  thunder 
and  the  lightning's  glare.  She  could  see  him 
now  standing  up  in  that  absurd  old  tub,  with 
the  wine-cooler  on  his  head  and  the  sheet 
thrown  over  his  shoulders,  singing  his  im- 
promptu recitative  of  nonsense.  She  had 
forgotten  about  the  handkerchief,  but  he  had 
treasured  it.  The  folds  were  tightly  pressed. 
It  had  lain  inside  the  breast  of  Rudolf's  tunic 
ever  since  the  day  it  had  come  into  his 
possession. 

Poor  little  swan!  She  touched  it  tenderly 
and  the  tears  brimmed  up  to  her  eyes.  They 
blurred  her  sight,  and  she  did  not  see  that  some 
one  was  coming  down  the  woodland  path, 
and  she  sat  so  still  that  Myles  was  quite  close 
to  her  before  he  was  conscious  of  her  nearness. 
The  light  under  the  tree  was  shadowy,  but 
the  white  of  her  gown  against  the  stem  re- 
vealed her.  He  saw  her  put  up  her  hand  and 
draw  it  across  her  eyes.  Something  glistened. 
He  was  so  near  he  could  see  that  and,  instead 
of  passing  on,  he  hesitated.  The  fraction  of 


348        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

a  moment  did  it,  because  she  looked  up  and 
saw  him. 

He  did  not  know  what  to  expect.  Some 
kind  of  recognition,  for  he  did  not  think  she 
would  ignore  him  entirely.  His  first  inten- 
tion had  been  to  pass  on,  and  not  give  her 
the  pain  of  having  to  recognise  him ;  his  second 
was  a  more  selfish  one.  He  must  know  what 
her  feeling  was  towards  him,  so  he  stood  still 
and  waited. 

He  saw  her  leave  the  bench  and  come  across 
the  grass  towards  him.  The  blood  rushed  up 
to  his  head  and  everything  seemed  to  spin 
round  and  then  stand  still  with  a  jerk.  He 
saw  nothing  but  her  face.  The  background 
was  a  blank  from  which  it  stood  out  very 
white,  and  her  eyes  looked  big  and  dark  and 
frightened. 

Rose  did  not  know  herself  what  she  was 
going  to  do;  she  had  not  given  herself  time 
to  think.  She  was  standing  in  front  of  him 
before  she  realised  where  she  was.  He  had 
looked  as  though  he  were  going  to  pass  on, 
and  she  could  not  let  him  do  that.  She  must 
speak  to  him.  She  must  tell  him  that  she 
knew  what  he  had  done,  and  that  she  knew 
about  Vilma. 

Her  extreme  nervousness  was  very  apparent, 


In  the  Kastanienwald  349 

and  Myles  did  not  help  her.  That  tell-tale 
colour,  which  had  such  a  maddening  trick  of 
coming  and  going  in  her  cheeks,  was  playing 
havoc  with  his  self-control.  When  she  looked 
like  that,  and  her  eyes  grew  big  and  dark  like 
a  frightened  child's,  he  was  conscious  of 
nothing  but  an  overpowering  desire  to  take 
her  in  his  arms. 

She  was  speaking,  but  in  her  nervousness 
she  did  not  make  her  meaning  plain.  He  did 
not  understand  at  first ;  then  the  truth  flashed 
upon  him.  She  had  found  him  out.  Of  course 
he  had  always  known  that  she  would.  It  was 
only  a  question  of  time.  What  would  she  do? 

He  did  not  realise  how  difficult  it  was  for 
her  to  speak,  and  when  she  stopped  because 
she  could  not  trust  her  voice  further,  he  mis- 
understood. He  said  rather  lamely: 

"I  knew  you  would  be  angry." 

"Angry?"  She  was  explaining  very  badly. 
She  must  make  him  understand.  The  words 
came  out  spasmodically,  and  to  her  own  ears 
they  sounded  miserably  stiff.  "You  have 
laid  me  under  a  great  debt  of  gratitude.  You 
have  been  very  kind.  I  wished  to  thank 
you.  You  wanted  to  help  me,  but — but — 
I  cannot  accept —  Oh!  don't  you  see  the 
impossibility  of  it?" 


350        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

He  was  beginning  to  understand. 

"No,  I  don't  see  the  impossibility.  It  was 
quite  right  for  me  to  do  what  I  did.  I  was 
to  blame.  It  was  my  fault." 

"It  was  not  your  fault." 

"But  it  was.  Don't  you  remember?  I 
told  you  I  was  to  blame." 

He  was  groping  in  the  dark,  still  uncertain 
how  much  she  knew. 

"  Don't  pretend,"  she  exclaimed  vehemently. 
"It  has  been  all  pretence  and  hiding  and 
keeping  things  from  me.  Why  have  you 
all  treated  me  as  if  I  were  a  child?  Please 
don't  do  it  any  more.  Did  you  think  that  I 
could  not  bear  to  be  told  the  truth?  Would 
you  have  let  me  believe  a  lie  about  you 
always?" 

He  had  nothing  to  say. 

She  shuddered  and  shut  her  eyes,  as  though 
she  would  blot  out  some  horrid  vision. 

"Can  that  woman  ever  be  forgiven  for 
such  cruelty? — and  to  a  little  child,"  she 
murmured. 

He  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak  of 
Vilma.  She  saw  that  he  could  not  when  she 
looked  up  at  him. 

"You  saved  him.  I  am  very  grateful," 
she  said. 


In  the  Kastanienwald  351 

"And  yet — you  will  not  take  anything 
from  me?" 

He  had  not  intended  to  answer  harshly. 
The  moment  the  words  were  spoken  he  was 
sorry. 

Her  lip  trembled. 

"It  is  the  kind  of  pride  a  woman  must 
have.  She  can't — accept  things." 

"That  old  bit  of  conventionalism?  Can't 
we  rise  above  it?  You — and  I?"  His  voice 
changed  on  the  last  words.  Passion,  and  an 
infinite  tenderness,  vibrated  in  its  deep  tone. 
"You — and  I—  That  night  when  you  came 
back,  what  answer  were  you  going  to  give  me  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
her  eyes  fell. 

"Had  you  made  up  your  mind  what  you 
were  going  to  say?" 

He  thought  she  was  never  going  to  answer. 

"Yes,"  she  murmured  at  last. 

"Was  it  the  answer  I  was  waiting  for?" 

She  did  not  speak,  but  she  did  not  draw 
away  from  him.  He  knew  she  was  his.  He 
felt  it  pulsing  through  every  vein. 

He  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  she 
quivered  under  his  touch. 

"Rose.  Look  at  me — tell  me?  Do  you 
love  me?" 


352        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

She  swayed  a  little.  Her  hand  went  out 
with  a  fluttering  movement.  It  touched  the 
breast  of  his  coat. 

"You  do  not  want  an  answer.  You — you 
know." 

At  last! 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms.  They  were  not 
light  kisses  that  rained  on  her  lips  and  eyes 
and  brow.  But  he  did  not  know  what  he  was 
doing — only — that  she  was  his. 

With  a  tremulous  laugh  she  put  up  her 
hand  to  smooth  her  ruffled  hair  and  held  him 
from  her. 

He  tried  to  draw  her  back,  but  she  resisted. 

"  Be  a  little  kind  to  me, ' '  he  pleaded.  "  I  've 
gone  through  such  a  bad  time.  I  thought 
I  had  lost  you." 

A  troubled  expression  crossed  her  face. 
The  lover  in  him  resented  it. 

"Why  do  you  look  like  that?"  he  said. 
"What  does  it  mean?" 

"It  means — "  She  hesitated.  "It  means 
that  I  still  feel  the  same  about  what  you 
call  my  pride.  About — about  all  these  things 
you  have  done  for  me." 

He  laughed. 

"I  gave  all  the  orders  in  your  name,"  he 
said. 


In  the  Kastanienwald  353 

"How?  How  could  you  give  orders  in  my 
name?" 

He  touched  a  little  curl  of  hair  which  clung 
to  the  rim  of  her  ear,  and  it  twisted  round  his 
finger. 

"My  dear,"  he  said  tenderly,  "let  us  talk 
this  out  once  for  all,  and  never  speak  of  it 
again.  We  will  go  back.  Before  I  left  Eng- 
land to  come  out  here  I  went  to  see  old  Mr. 
Trevor's  lawyers.  I  told  them  everything, 
and  I  left  instructions  with  them  as  to  what 
the}7'  were  to  do  to  insure  the  boy's  rights 
being  legalised  as  soon  as  they  heard  from  me 
that  I  had  found  him. 

"I  wrote  to  them  from  Waldhof.  It  was 
the  day  after  the  picnic.  Do  you  remember 
we  talked  on  the  way  up?  I  wanted  to  get 
the  business  settled  and  they  seemed  very  slow, 
so  when  you  were  at  Cortina  I  telegraphed 
to  them.  They  answered,  and  I  had  to  wire 
final  instructions.  It  was  important,  and  I 
went  down  to  the  office  myself  to  send  the 
wire." 

She  glanced  up. 

"  You  went  with  the  Seybells?  " 

"Yes." 

She  blushed  hotly. 

"I  hated  your  going  with  them." 
23 


354        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

"Did  you?" 

The  little  curl  twisted  tighter  round  his 
finger. 

"But  still  I  don't  understand,"  she  said. 

"Have  I  not  made  it  clear?  You  have  only 
been  spending  on  the  boy  what  was  his  own. 
It  has  all  been  made  over  to  him.  Now,  do 
you  understand?" 

She  looked  at  him  long  and  quest ioningly. 

"I  said  I  would  never  take  that  old  man's 
money." 

He  put  his  arm  round  her  and  drew  her  down 
on  the  old  wooden  bench. 

"Do  you  think  you  have  the  right  to  keep 
the  boy  out  of  it?" 

She  sat  with  downcast  eyes,  still  troubled. 

"It  comes  to  him  from  you — now?  Not 
from  that  old  man?  " 

"  Does  that  make  it  easier?  " 

"Yes." 

A  woman's  logic,  but  he  loved  her  for  it. 

They  sat  for  a  long  time  under  the  chestnut 
tree.  The  little  brown  squirrel  in  the  branches 
overhead  watched,  and  perhaps  listened;  but 
he  could  not  have  heard  very  much,  for  there 
is  a  stage  of  happiness  when  words  count  for 
nothing. 

The  dusk  of  the  summer  night  fell  softly. 


In  the  Kastanienwald  355 

The  silent  sweetness  of  the  forest  encircled 
them. 

"It  is  late;  I  must  not  stay."  Rose  had 
said  that  many  times,  and  he  had  always 
answered:  "I  cannot  let  you  go.  Nothing 
will  ever  be  quite  the  same  as  this  again." 

When  she  would  no  longer  be  persuaded  he 
rose  reluctantly.  Something  fell  from  her 
lap  to  the  ground. 

"Your  handkerchief,"  he  said,  and,  stoop- 
ing, picked  it  up  and  gave  it  to  her. 

Poor  little  white  swan!  She  had  twisted 
it  round  and  round  in  her  fingers,  not  knowing 
what  she  did.  She  had  been  so  happy  that 
she  had  forgotten  all  about  it,  and  she  had 
forgotten  Rudolf.  She  felt  pitiful  and  re- 
morseful. 

"Why  do  you  sigh  like  that?" 

Her  fingers  closed  over  the  handkerchief. 

"Why?  "he  repeated. 

"It  was  an  accident  our  meeting  in  the  wood 
just  now?  Only  chance,  wasn't  it?"  she 
asked. 

"Almost  too  good  for  chance,"  he  answered. 

"But  you  did  not  expect  to  meet  me?  You 
did  not  know  I  was  here?" 

"No;  I  had  not  the  least  idea  I  was  going 
to  meet  you." 


356        With  the  Merry  Austrians 

She  drew  a  little  nearer  to  him.  Even  in 
the  faint  light  he  could  see  that  her  eyes  were 
shining  as  if  through  tears.  She  put  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder  and  laid  her  cheek 
against  it. 

He  did  not  move.  She  was  so  chary  of  her 
caresses  that  he  was  afraid  of  frightening  the 
sweetness  of  her  mood. 

"What  is  it?  "he  asked. 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment;  then  she 
said  slowly: 

"I  don't  think  it  was  an  accident.  I  think 
it  was  meant." 

"Who  meant  it?" 

She  slipped  her  hand  a  little  higher.  It 
touched  his  cheek 

He  bent  and  kissed  her. 
"Some  day  perhaps  I  will  tell  you." 


THE   END 


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